FROM THE ASHES
by GlimmerIcewood
Summary: Look for four: the flightless to fall and darkness to gain, cold to lose and inferno to reign. Those were the words whispered the night of his birth. Now there's nothing left. Or so he thought.
1. Going Home

Prologue, Part One.

* * *

 _Going to the mountains is going home._

* * *

The whole world is burning.

It doesn't make sense, but everything he knows is on fire. He could see the smoke, smell the stench of it, from the Moonspire. It took ripping him from a dream, a dream where he was supposed to receive his nine lives, for him to really see it.

He races back to his territory, Lichenwhisker keeping up as best he can. The medicine cat is old, though, and can only run for so long. Distantly, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should have brought Goldenleaf instead. The apprentice is still young, could keep up, could help him.

It's selfish. It's not who he is. But he needs to get back, he needs to save them.

The flames haven't reached the camp yet. He can see that. The scents at the borders are gone, the forest is ruined around them, and yet he can still see the shallow valley, nestled against the side of the mountain, where his home is. It's not gone. Not yet.

He saw Jaytalon in his dream. His brother. His brother, who was alive when he left him in charge of the camp. Jaytalon, who can't possibly be dead, who looked at him in the dream and told him to run even though it hadn't made sense at the time.

He plunges across the rocks, down into the camp, Lichenwhisker yelling after him.

The first thing he sees is Jaytalon's body.

It's in the center of camp, over the spot Sorrelstar had laid the night before while her Clan grieved. He's twisted at a horrific angle, his fur caked in blood, blue eyes stunningly lifeless and reflecting the flames in the distance back at him.

Despite what he knows, he won't let his brain confirm what he sees in front of him.

He wills his brain to shut down, his emotions to compartmentalize, when all he wants to do is crouch down on the ground and scream to the sky.

Now, he notices that he sees no one else.

The camp is empty.

There's no terrified howls, no warriors herding the queens and elders out into safety. There's no noise except for the embers crackling in the distance, the roar of the fire growing closer.

Casting one glance back at Jaytalon's body, willing his heart not to betray him, he takes off around the rest of the camp.

There are no apprentices or warriors. Goldenleaf, where she had been resting in the Medicine Den watching over Mothtail, is gone. Tattered scraps of leaves and crushed berries line the ground, the moss nests where they had been lying torn apart. Like they were ripped away in their sleep.

He finds two more bodies lying not far away.

Blackwing and Rocktooth, lying so close together he can hardly tell them apart. The only two elders the Clan has and they're lying, broken and battered, at his gray-stained paws. He feels bile rose in his throat and forces it back down.

He already knows what the answer is, but he checks the nursery anyway.

The two occupied nests are all but gone - Minnowstream's, lying near the back, is practically non-existent. Wrensong's, the one that held his niece and nephew, is stained with blood. His brother, and now them. The only family he had left in the world, after his parents died.

They're all gone.

Lichenwhisker yells again, something frantic, and he races for the camp entrance before his mind even makes the decision to follow his body.

The brown and white tom is standing where he left him, perched on the rocks, hair standing on end.

"Where—?"

"They're gone, the whole Clan— I don't—"

"Easy, just breathe," Lichenwhisker says, even as he nearly chokes on his own breath. The smoke is too bad. They need to leave. "What do you mean?"

"It's like they were taken, everyone's missing besides..."

"Besides who?"

"Blackwing and Rocktooth. They're dead," he forces out. "And— and Jaytalon."

Lichenwhisker stares at him, fear obvious in his eyes, and tries to lay his tail across his shoulders. He shrugs it off, stepping away, and finally notices what he should have when they were running.

They made the mountains their home for a reason - ValleyClan and SlopeClan. They led the way for travelers, for those who dared to cross the mountains. They protected what no one else could, had fires lit by StarClan that never wavered, high up on the mountain peaks. Lights to follow in the darkness. What most cats feared they relished, kept burning for the sake of others.

And it was those fires that were destroying the forest, bursting forth from their rocky captivities to devour everything around him.

Lichenwhisker follows his gaze up the mountainside, realization finally dawning on him. They both stare for far too long, smoke blurring across their vision.

"We need to go," he finally says, nudging Lichenwhisker away from the camp. He wants to go back. He wants to bury Jaytalon, and his elders, and he wants to know what happened to his Clan. But he can't.

"You're the leader, Icestar."

Icestar. The name nearly burns a whole in him. He's not Icestar. He got ripped from the dream before he got any lives. But Lichenwhisker doesn't know that. He's still deputy, and he has nothing to fall back on, and no one else knows.

"What about SlopeClan?" Lichenwhisker asks. He can hardly tell which way is up, let alone which way the border is. But maybe they can get to SlopeClan. Maybe they can be saved. Their borders don't exist anymore, when something like this happens. Even in regular times, they hardly exist at all, with how close the two Clans are.

He knows Lichenwhisker won't leave him, but it forces them to move at a slower pace. The older tom is still wheezing, still stumbling over burning rocks and stones. The fire is thinning in this direction, though.

Maybe that's why he finally starts smelling blood instead of smoke.

He halts, the medicine cast stumbling into his haunches.

"Stay here."

"Icestar—"

" _Stay here_ ," he hisses. He's not risking him too, not when the rest of the Clan is gone. Not when he doesn't know what they're walking into.

He makes sure the medicine cat stays hidden before continuing upward, further on the hill toward the SlopeClan camp. He can hear voices, now, caterwauls and cheers and nothing that sounds right. The smell of blood is stronger than ever, and he can still see the fire, roaring ever closer.

He can't walk into the camp. That's suicide no matter what's going on. He's been here only twice in his life, but he knows there's a mess of fallen trees off to the left, one that shelters almost every den in the camp. He's covered in soot, his white fur blending into the shadows, and no one will know he's here.

Crouching low on one of the logs, trying to be as quiet as possible, he knows that it's bad. The roaring in his ears is covering up whatever the cats in camp are saying, but what he sees makes everything worse.

There are bodies. Almost nothing but bodies, scattered around the camp, the grass running red with blood. He recognizes one of their elders, lying only feet away from him, and the bodies of four kits, flung in every direction away from what has to be their mother. There's a lone apprentice, crumpled by the body of her mentor. He finally sees Applestar, throat ripped out and blood spilling out onto the ground, and she shows no sign of waking. She's surrounded by dead warriors, like they tried to protect her and failed.

Another voice snaps him out of his stupor.

"—take the other group back to Fable. You knew that one best. Shame, though, that we had to get rid of almost everyone here. Seems like we had a few promising ones."

"Last time I checked I didn't take orders from you. These ones all deserved to die. ValleyClan can be persuaded to change sides for their own survival. I know how they work."

He knows that voice almost better than his own.

Shadestrike.

He's heard others say it before, how betrayal makes it feel like a piece of your heart is being ripped from your chest. That's what it feels like, hearing Shadestrike's voice in SlopeClan's slaughtered camp.

"Also," he hears her hiss. "I don't remember you saying everyone was found, Lenon. If anyone is still missing from these Clans by the time we get back to Fable, I don't think him or I will be very happy about it."

He can see the two of them now, Shadestrike's dark gray pelt almost invisible if not for the flash of white on her chest, her eyes icy even in the darkness. The tom speaking to her is tall and lanky, his brown tabby pelt bristling.

"You just want little Iceheart back. Icestar now, is it? He's gonna be a real pain to kill when he shows up, fancy nine lives and all, now won't he, princess? If you even want to kill him that is."

This Shadestrike is no different than the one he knew in ValleyClan. If it was a Clanmate she'd quip something back, bat them over the head, stalk away in irritated silence.

Lenon isn't a Clanmate.

The next thing he knows the tom is lying dead at Shadestrike's feet, blood spilling out of his stomach and mouth. He didn't even see it happen. Shadestrike swipes a bloody paw across the grass, glancing around at the bodies around her.

"Get ready to move!" she calls out to whomever else is lurking in the shadows. He knows there's more of them, he can hear them. "Anyone that falls behind, Clan or not, can deal with the wolves on their own."

 _Get ready to move._

 _Clan or not._

 _Back to Fable._

His Clan is still alive, spared by words spilling out of Shadestrike's mouth, and they're being taken to the only other group he knows that lives anywhere in these mountains. The same group that Shadestrike came from.

He doesn't know how much longer they'll be alive, if he's right.

He takes off back down the log, paws slamming into the ground. Lichenwhisker is still waiting for him, ducked behind a thicket of brambles. He wastes no time in shoving the medicine cat back, pushing him away from the camp without any explanation. The horror in his eyes must be enough to convey it.

They move for hours. Crossing the borders, deeper into the mountains. He doesn't know where Fable's group lives, where Shadestrike will take his Clan and the rest of Fable's followers. All he knows is they need to get away. If Shadestrike is hunting anyone that escaped, he'll be among the first.

Lichenwhisker can hardly move, after that long. His paws are raw and bloody, and he stops every few moments to catch his breath.

When they stop, they're both silent.

All he can think about is that prophecy, the one Lichenwhisker received the night he and Jaytalon were born. The one that just came true in front of his eyes, because it never made sense until this moment. Jaytalon's dead. He just lost, and Shadestrike just won. She was never supposed to be the darkness, but she just destroyed everything, set fire to everything he loved.

He can't force the words out, can't make himself say out-loud that SlopeClan is dead and ValleyClan isn't too far behind. Lichenwhisker stares at him, hardly able to keep his eyes open.

Distantly, he wishes that the mountainside would crumble and kill the both of them, bury them in an avalanche so thick no one ever finds the bodies. But he knows, just like in every dream he has had about re-living this moment, that it won't happen.

He'll make up the next morning, and the forest will still be burning. Three days later he'll lose Lichenwhisker. Dead in his sleep. Too much smoke, or maybe he just can't handle not being able to save the Clan after caring for them for so long.

After a week, he tries tracking Shadestrike and the group that leaves the forest. He finds nothing. Even their prints in the mud are gone, destroyed by the rain that finally came the day before.

He doesn't stop for two moons. The mountains are vast and wide, and he still can't find anything.

A stranger talks to him for the first time in three moons, an older she-cat named Micky who lives in a desolate two-leg nest, high up in the woods. When he goes to speak his voice is raw with disuse. She feels bad for him, so he leaves. He can't sleep with her pitying gaze on him.

Seven moons after, and StarClan hasn't come to him once. Not Sorrelstar, not Jaytalon. No one bothers visiting his dreams.

He starts to lose track of time, after that. Time doesn't matter much, when you have nothing to live for.

Nine moons later, and he's still alive. He doesn't know why he's alive. He wishes death upon himself every night before he falls into a restless sleep, and every morning he wakes up he hates himself a bit more. StarClan won't take him because he destroyed their Clans, and the Dark Forest doesn't want a coward like him.

He has nothing left, anymore.

Barely even himself.

* * *

Ten moons later, he really wakes up.

He's been sheltering under the same rocky outcrop for three days, trying to ride out the freezing rain. It won't stop, though. It's kind of fitting, for the mood he's been in lately. He has the dream every few days, like clockwork, no matter where he is, though. Relives the night his whole life fell apart like StarClan enjoys reminding him. He doesn't blame them, though he's surprised StarClan even remembers he exists.

He used to be Iceheart, deputy of ValleyClan. He was supposed to Icestar, before he lost everything.

Now he doesn't know what to call himself.

A ghost isn't far off, though.

* * *

 **FORMER VALLEYCLAN**

 **LEADER -** SORRELSTAR - a tall, dark brown tabby she-cat with green eyes

 **DEPUTY** \- ICEHEART - a broad-shouldered, pure white tom with green eyes

 **MEDICINE CAT** \- LICHENWHISKER - a brown and white tabby tom with yellow eyes (APPRENTICE - GOLDENLEAF)

 **WARRIORS:**

JAYTALON - a pale gray and white streaked tom with blue eyes (APPRENTICE - CHERRYPAW)

SHADESTRIKE - a dark gray she-cat with white paws, a white chest, and blue eyes (APPRENTICE - BRACKENPAW)

HONEYCLAW - a golden-brown tabby she-cat with amber eyes

BUZZARDFLIGHT - a speckled brown and white tom with amber eyes

MOTHTAIL - a pale, gray-brown she-cat with amber eyes

SOOTCLOUD - a solid black she-cat with green eyes (APPRENTICE - STARLINGPAW)

FLAMESTORM - a huge dark ginger tom with white paws and amber eyes

HAILFOOT - a dark gray tabby tom with green eyes (APPRENTICE - FLINTPAW)

BADGERFANG - a broad-shouldered black and white tom with blue eyes

SPOTTEDBIRD - a thick-furred tortoiseshell and white she-cat with amber eyes

 **APPRENTICES:**

GOLDENLEAF - a long-furred, golden she-cat with amber eyes (Apprentice to the Medicine Cat)

CHERRYPAW - a tortoiseshell and white she-cat with green eyes

FLINTPAW - a black and white tom with amber eyes

STARLINGPAW - a black she-cat with one white paw and amber eyes

BRACKENPAW - a long-legged light brown tabby tom with a cream underbelly and green eyes

 **QUEENS:**

WRENSONG - a small, light brown tabby she-cat with amber eyes (Mother of Jaytalon's kits - Skykit and Frozenkit)

MINNOWSTREAM - a silver-furred she-cat with white specks and blue eyes (Expecting Flamestorm's kits)

 **KITS:**

SKYKIT - a mottled gray and white she-cat with amber eyes

FROZENKIT - a silver streaked white tom with one yellow eye and one blue eye

 **ELDERS:**

ROCKTOOTH - a scarred dark gray tabby tom with green eyes

BLACKWING - a black she-cat with amber eyes

 **FORMER SLOPECLAN**

 **LEADER -** APPLESTAR **-** a dark, red-brown she-cat with green eyes

 **DEPUTY** \- BIRCHWIND - a long-furred mottled gray she-cat with amber eyes

 **MEDICINE CAT** \- PEBBLENOSE - a dark gray tom with green eyes

 **WARRIORS:**

IVYSPLASH - a light brown tabby and white she-cat with green eyes

REEDBLAZE - a pale, tall, cream-furred tom with green eyes (APPRENTICE - RIVERPAW)

SQUIRRELFANG - a lean, dark brown tabby tom with a white underbelly and blue eyes

PINEFROST - a dark blue tabby tom with amber eyes

FAWNSTEP - a pale, golden and white dappled she-cat with amber eyes

LAVENDERMIST - a very pale gray she-cat with green eyes

FOGWHISKER - a shaggy, pale gray tom with amber eyes (APPRENTICE - CROWPAW)

BLOSSOMCREEK - a long-furred tortoiseshell and white she-cat with blue eyes

CEDARSTRIPE - a mottled dark brown tom with amber eyes

 **APPRENTICES:**

RIVERPAW - a gray she-cat with amber eyes

CROWPAW - a black tom with green eyes

 **QUEENS:**

DOVESONG - a pale gray she-cat with blue eyes (Mother of Squirrelfang's kits - Robinkit, Dawnkit, Spiderkit and Stonekit)

BLACKFLOWER - a long-legged jet black she-cat with amber eyes (Expecting Reedblaze's kits)

 **KITS:**

ROBINKIT - a small tortoiseshell she-cat with amber eyes

DAWNKIT - a blue-cream and white she-cat with blue eyes

SPIDERKIT - a black tom with white paws and blue eyes

STONEKIT - a blue tabby tom with amber eyes

 **ELDERS:**

OWLMASK - a brown and white tom with blue eyes

RUSSETFOOT - a red brown tom with amber eyes

MISTPETAL - a pale gray she-cat with green eyes

* * *

I was coerced (read: bullied) into writing a Warriors fic in the year 2017. Also title in all caps because I'm edgy.

So thanks very much to the four people who thought this was a good idea and an equal amount of thanks to everyone who clicks/reads/faves/comments whatever on this fic. It is much appreciated, despite how little of this actually makes sense without any other chapters or context. This idea originally spawned many years ago and was unfortunately dredged up again and here I am thousands of words into it. It's a wild ride.

Much love.


	2. Death Wish

Prologue, Part Two.

* * *

 _It's not a death wish. I just have very little left to lose._

* * *

 **Aurane - path to MountainClan Camp.**

* * *

"Would you shut up for all of five seconds?"

Behind her, Amarei slams her jaw shut so fast is lets out an audible _clack_. Reddian snickers, doing wonders to smother the noise. She can feel the signs of a traditional eye-roll somewhere off to her left, but she's used to it by now.

"Quit it, Smoot."

"Smoot? That's a new one."

"Still better than your real name."

She'd like to hurt whoever came up with the name Carbunkle and gave it to one of her closest friends, but well. His name's Carbunkle, and it's not going away. That doesn't mean she has to actually call him by that. Still, Aurane watches as he stares way too intently at their current prisoner with an alarming amount of concern, just like how he tries to stare way too intently at everything to cover it up. She can't even remember the prisoner's name - the fact that he's annoyingly ginger is the only thing that really stuck - but Carbunkle probably does. For more reason than one.

"You're ridiculous, mate," she says flatly, and this time both Reddian and Amarei laugh. Frankly, their whole life is kind of ridiculous, so she's not really surprised. Still, if she has to forcibly stop him from releasing one more prisoner, they're going to have words.

"Just because Tempest wants prisoners who knows about the missing Clan cats doesn't mean you can just pick someone random off the thunderpath and go sure, that one works. It's not like he knows anything." And if that's not a change of topic Aurane doesn't know what is. Which means she's _right_. Ha.

"Yeah, he doesn't," the prisoner - seriously, what is this _guy's_ name - echoes from about ten feet ahead of them. He hasn't tried to make a break for it. Then again, his options are run straight to the camp or off a cliff. Aurane doesn't really blame him for not running.

"I could've killed you!" she yells at him. "Don't push it!"

He doesn't seem scared of them. That's probably Carbunkle's doing too. Him or Amarei. The both of them are about as intimidating as a butterfly.

The camp entrance comes into view around the next corner, and the prisoner stops dead. There's only one cat guarding the entrance, and she doesn't know his name either, shame, but he stands up, fur bristling, at the sight of them.

"You've been gone for a while. Got some explaining to do to Tempest."

"Who are you again? Reddian asks, taking all of two seconds to shove past them and enter the camp. Carbunkle sighs for the sixth time in the past five minutes, but still follows after them without hesitation. The prisoner balks, staring at the guard in what would probably be blank fear if he wasn't trying to hide it.

"It's either stay out here and freeze to death or go in," Amarei adds helpfully. He stares at her, he's been doing that a lot, and then carefully edges around the guard and slips into the camp. Staying close to Carbunkle is probably his best bet for survival, and he knows it. By the time she makes it into the camp, leaving the guard still standing there trying to pull a clever response out of his non-existent brain, Carbunkle is already herding him towards the prisoner's den. Probably didn't call it that, though.

"You know, cats are going to start questioning how someone so nice is still hanging out with us," Reddian asks, which she already knew, but hearing Reddian say it just confirms it. Somehow, despite being the youngest, Reddian always knows things before the rest of them do. It'd be weird if it wasn't so useful.

"You know they question why I'm here too," Amarei points out, sounding more like Aurane's sister than she usually does. It's a miracle anyone believes they're related at all, but that tone of voice is all them. "But I mean, he wants to release every prisoner we come across. Fish is no exception.

"His name is _Fish_? But he's ginger! That doesn't even make any sense!"

Reddian almost snorts, _almost_ , and that's when Carbunkle decides to return, sans Fish, and Aurane can't help herself.

"We really won the name lottery with this one, didn't we Smoot?"

"Please stop calling me that."

* * *

 **Tempest - MountainClan Camp.**

* * *

She wouldn't change a thing.

She doesn't think she was ever Shadestrike, not really. She was sent to the Clans with one purpose, and that was to destroy them. She did that pretty well. There are a few loose ends, some missing pieces, but they haven't disturbed anything. She'd be surprised if most of the ones who escaped managed to survive on their own. That's the issue with Clan cats. Together they were fearsome, but alone they were practically nothing.

ValleyClan had taken her in too easily. Not enough of them had questioned it, a cat on her own, the age of an apprentice, and all of a sudden she was one of them. Though that had mostly been Iceheart's doing. Or Icepaw, then. He was just as trusting as the rest of them.

Their lack of conflict with SlopeClan had made them content. Weak.

Perfect victims.

Iceheart had loved her. He was still Iceheart to her. He had no Clan to lead, had never had a chance to lead them at all. Nine lives or not, he was no leader, and she wouldn't call him one. It wouldn't surprise her if he was the only one from the Clans left alive, outside this group. Not even ten of them escaped from the original massacre. If they had managed to survive this long, then Tempest commended them for it.

It didn't mean she still wouldn't hunt them down. She could still compliment them as she killed them.

"Aurane just reported back. They have another prisoner. Reddian thinks they're lying about having known any of the Clan cats, but who knows with them. Think they have a sixth sense, or something," Fable murmurs from her left. Aurane had been back for a while now, but of course he had only just found out. For a leader, he didn't know much.

They destroyed the Clans because of her. He had a guard of nine cats, meant to replace the nine lives he would never receive, to protect him, because of her. They were thriving because of her.

Fable would never say as much out-loud. But she could bide her time until he would.

"I was just on my way to speak to said prisoner," Tempest says smoothly. Fable was so easy to manipulate, to take care of. If only he knew that too.

"Don't hurt him too bad."

She wouldn't. If he did know anything, he would admit it eventually. Starvation did that to a cat. And if he wouldn't fess up even then, they had other methods.

Tempest made her way to the prisoner's den, a tumble of rocks next to the mountainside. The air smelled of sickness and rot and she held her breath for a moment. No matter how long it had been, the smell always got to her.

The prisoner was just inside the entrance, talking in hushed whispers to Goldenleaf. Fast friends already, it seemed. Goldenleaf shut up the moment she laid eyes on Tempest, but she didn't move and neither did the prisoner. Starlingpaw and Flintpaw sat crouched near the back of the den, fur blending together. Blossomcreek was lying down beside them, eyes glassy. The she-cat was sick. Not that she planned on doing anything about it. Goldenleaf couldn't heal a cat without herbs, no matter how good of a Medicine Cat she was.

Pandora sat next to the entrance, tail curled over her paws, and remained silent like the rest of them. But her eyes didn't waver. They never did.

"You're Fish?" Tempest asks, looking at the new arrival. "That's ... interesting."

"That's me," he responds. "And you're Tempest."

She smiles, and watches as Starlingpaw's ears flattened to her head in the gloom.

"I have reason to believe you know where some of my old Clan friends are. I could use some help finding them," Tempest says easily. The tom eyes her warily, but remains where is he.

"Met a lot of cats with lots of different names, to be fair."

"Looking for a few specific ones. Namely a white tom, green eyes. Probably not doing too well."

"That's quite the detailed description."

Goldenleaf's eyes snap to him, and then Flintpaw's. Even Blossomcreek looks surprised, as well as she could.

"Do you have a death wish?"

"Depends. Are you going to kill me?"

She smirked, and although Fish swallows, probably mentally preparing himself to die, he was still unwavering. "Not yet. We'll see."

Tempest turned to leave the den, and one of the guards rolled the boulder back into place, sealing the entrance shut once again. After a few days, he would probably cave. She'd killed lots of cats with lots of bravado since the Clans fell. He had bite, but Fish wouldn't fight back nearly as hard as some of them had. She had managed to convince some of her own Clanmates to turn and even a few of SlopeClan's. She had renamed them herself, formed MountainClan, in as much capacity as she could. Killed the ones that refused to join her. There weren't many left. They kept Goldenleaf in case anyone was injured and the rest in the hopes that they would break one day. And if not ... well. It was no real loss to her.

She had to give her missing friends some credit, though. They'd manage to evade her for this long.

She had a feeling she was getting closer, though.

And she had all the time in the world.

* * *

 **CURRENT MOUNTAINCLAN**

 **LEADER** \- FABLE - a thick-furred golden-brown tom with amber eyes

 **SECOND-IN-COMMAND** \- TEMPEST - a dark gray she-cat with white paws and chest and pale blue eyes (Formerly Shadestrike of ValleyClan)

 **THE GUARD:**

KODA - a pale, tall, cream-furred tom with green eyes (Formerly Reedblaze of SlopeClan)

JET - a lean black tom with amber eyes

MALI - a pale, golden and white dappled she-cat with amber eyes (Formerly Fawnstep of SlopeClan)

RIPPER - a pale, mottled gray and white tom with one blue eye and one yellow eye (Formerly Frozenkit of ValleyClan)

LANDON - a thin, long-legged light brown tabby tom with green eyes

BANDIT - a broad-shouldered black and white tom with blue eyes (Formerly Badgerfang of ValleyClan)

AZRA - a dark tortoiseshell she-cat with amber eyes

VENUS - a sleek-furred white she-cat with amber eyes

CRASH - a dark brown tabby tom with green eyes

 **MESSENGERS:**

AURANE - a dappled brown she-cat with a white throat and green eyes

AMAREI - a long-furred white she-cat with pale blue eyes

REDDIAN - a black and white cat with yellow eyes

CARBUNKLE - a lean pale gray tom with amber eyes

 **SOLDIERS:**

SHIERA - a silver tabby she-cat with amber eyes

HOLDEN - a dark brown and white tabby tom with blue eyes

THALIA - a long-legged tortoiseshell and white she-cat with amber eyes

SKEETER - a pale ginger tom with amber eyes

SARITA - a pale lilac-furred she-cat with green eyes

EZRA - a cream and white tom with green eyes

HEATH - a dark ginger tom with white paws and blue eyes

SCORCH - a dark gray tabby tom with yellow eyes

NARISSA - a black she-cat with amber eyes

JINX - a broad-shouldered brown tabby tom with green eyes

 **QUEENS:**

SOPHIE - a very dark brown tabby she-cat with green eyes (Mother of Ripper's kits - Elias, Leo and Angel)

 **PRISONERS:**

GOLDENLEAF - a long-furred golden she-cat with amber eyes (Formerly of ValleyClan)

BLOSSOMCREEK - a tortoiseshell and white she-cat with blue eyes (Formerly of SlopeClan)

FLINTPAW - a black and white tom with amber eyes (Formerly of ValleyClan)

STARLINGPAW - a black she-cat with one white paw and amber eyes (Formerly of ValleyClan)

PANDORA - a sleek silver and black she-cat with green eyes

FISH - a long-furred dark ginger tom with green eyes

* * *

Back at it again with the prologues.

Because I feel like this has been brought up a lot already, ten moons has passed since the original events that set off this story. Everyone is older, a lot more bitter, etc. Some more fun facts because why not: the messengers are based on the aforementioned group of assholes who bullied me into writing this. And they're some of the only people even bothering to read this. Also, Reddian is agender at the request of one aforementioned friend, hence the they/them pronouns.

I'm aiming for every Friday/Saturday for updates. Every other chapter will be an Ice POV, the ones in between POV's of various others because I like torturing myself. Also I made too many characters and they need to be showcased.


	3. Hunters and Prey

Chapter One.

* * *

 _Are we the hunters, or are we the prey?_

* * *

 **PART I: IT ALL FALLS DOWN**

* * *

 **Iceheart - outskirts of Twoleg Place.**

* * *

It was Micky's idea.

When he had first met the old, fragile little she-cat, he hadn't known what to call himself. Icestar wasn't right and Iceheart was too dangerous, if anyone ever caught wind of it. He hadn't needed a name, when he was on his own.

Then when the freezing rain stops, and the fog finally clears, he realizes just how close to twoleg place he's gotten. There hadn't been one, near his Clan. This is the first time he's really seen civilization other than the twolegs who paddled around the lake near his home. There's another lake here, though, bigger than the one he had known, and twinkling lights of dwellings in a cluster around the right shore.

So he needs a name. And Micky practically insisting, saying he looked like he had seen a ghost when he laid his eyes on her, well. It stuck with him.

If he's a ghost, he might as well be called one too.

It's freezing, between the lake and the mountains. He's not used to being this cold. He always had Clanmates around him; warm, living bodies that chased away the cold at night. Now he's alone, and he doesn't quite know how to deal with it. He's never been alone, properly, in his life. Not until the past ten moons. It's crushing him. All he can hope is that civilization is slightly warmer than it is up here.

It only takes him four, maybe five hours to get to the bottom of the mountains. In comparison to the amount of time he's been travelling, it feels instantaneous. When he hits the bottom there's a thunderpath in front of him, laden with snow. It's so thick there's no way a monster could get through it, and he hesitantly steps to the side of it, glancing both ways. He can't even hear anything. He still runs across it like someone's chasing him, not stopping until he's cleared the other side by a hundred yards.

There's a nest through the trees just in front of him, lights casting shadows across the snow. He steps forward, peering through the gaps in the fence. There's no scent of any other animals, nothing that would pose any danger to him. He leaps over the fence and lands shoulder-deep in the snow on the other side, wincing.

He wishes he still had Lichenwhisker with him. It's been so long that sometimes he forgets he ever had him.

A smaller nest sits in the corner of the yard, and he leaps onto one of the sills to peek in a broken window. To him it mostly looks like a mess of junk, but maybe to the twolegs it serves some purpose. Either way, it's warm and he'll be able to squirm out in the morning before anyone notices. He settles himself in the clearest spot he can find, shivering. There's dust in his eyes and his fur won't dry any time soon, but at least he won't be getting snowed on while he sleeps. Just that feeling alone is almost enough to lull him to sleep, his head resting on his paws.

Almost.

 _Don't go to sleep._

He jerks, instantly awake, and slams his head into a plank of wood. The words just echoed around in his head, clear as day.

That was Jaytalon's voice.

"Who are you?"

Now he's _really_ awake.

He spins, nearly whacking his head on the plank again, and trips over another. It takes him a long moment to right himself, and then another longer one to even locate the door. It's cracked open now, a sliver of light pouring in from the outside. Well, almost. There's a figure blocking most of the light, a tall she-cat with black and white fur. He can't make out much more than that. She doesn't look all that threatening.

"Hello?" She asks. She doesn't seem scared in the slightest, just curious. And a little weirded out, but she did just stumble upon a stranger sleeping in what might be _her_ sleeping spot. There's enough stale scent that it's possible. He was just a little too tired when he jumped in here to really notice.

"H-Hi?"

That's an ice-breaker if he's ever heard one. The she-cat just laughs though, genuinely laughs. He still doesn't feel at ease.

"You look a little rough there, buddy." He knows he does, and it occurs to him that she could probably hurt him right now, if she wanted to. Maybe kill him. It's not like he's been eating the best, and every part of him aches.

"You gonna answer the question, or?"

He blinks. Huh. But then he remembers.

"Uh. G-Ghost? I guess."

"You guess," she hums, but she smiles again. "How hard did you hit your head there?"

She's _teasing_ him. How long has it been, since someone spoke to him like that? All Micky had done was ask him if he was alright, tell him to hunt and to lie down. It hadn't been much else, besides the name thing, and he had left two days after. That was close to six moons ago. He hasn't met anyone since. It's like the voice of a Clanmate, and it's been so long that he can hardly remember a conversation he had, before all this.

"You staying for the night?" She questions, and he blinks dumbly at her again.

"I'll just - you know, I'll leave. Obviously this is your place, and—"

"I don't really have a habit of kicking strangers out onto the thunderpath in the middle of the night, you know," she laughs. "You can stay. I don't care. You really don't look like you plan on killing me in my sleep."

Apparently kindness is another thing he's been missing desperately. Just a few seconds of it and he's already wilted, accepting that he's going to invade someone else's space and just go to sleep because he doesn't know where else to go. The she-cat pads forward, around him, and disappears into the gloom further into the nest. Some of the broken pieces of wood swallow her up immediately.

Her eyes were blue, though. Not icy, like Shadestrike's. Darker, almost black in the light.

"Go to sleep!" She calls back, like she knows he's just standing there staring like an idiot. Not once did he expect a complete stranger to just ... leave him be. At best he thought he'd be back outside again. Dead, if he was feeling especially pessimistic. But for the first time since he can remember, he actually feels a little like himself. He's been so lonely it's been crushing him. Even the mere presence of someone else is enough to let the old Iceheart trickle back in, for a second.

It's the old Iceheart who remembers why he woke up in the first place.

 _Jaytalon?_

Nothing. Complete silence is back in his head, but he's not that crazy. It was Jaytalon. He couldn't forget his brother's voice if he tried. It's not like he can say it out-loud. He doesn't need to start talking to himself in the presence of someone else. Then he really is going to get thrown back outside by the she-cat whose name he didn't even ask. Real great first impression he's got going on.

He lays back down, curling up into a tight ball, and stares back into the darkness.

He's not alone anymore. Not on the outside, not in his mind.

Even if it's just for a night, he falls asleep knowing that for certain.

* * *

It's the scent of food that wakes him up.

Most of the prey he had been eating in the past moon had been crusted over with ice, already half-dead when he found it. It was hard to catch anything else, when he was already weak and he could hardly see a foot in front of him through the snow. Even leaving the places where he slept was hard enough, some mornings.

When he opens his eyes and sees a squirrel in front of him, bigger than any one meal he's had in the past three months, he's almost convinced he's still asleep. He's had a lot of moments like that, where he was halfway between awake and asleep, convinced he's hallucinating. For all he knew, most of those times he actually _was_. To say he didn't trust himself all that much was an understatement.

He stares at the squirrel for an inappropriately long time. He stands up, walks around, and looks for the she-cat. She's gone. When he comes back the squirrel is still there. The sunlight is filtering through the broken window so strongly that it must be sunhigh already. He hasn't slept so long in quite a while either. Whether from nightmares or noises or just general uneasiness, it was always something.

Finally, he gives in.

He devours the squirrel in rapid, famished gulps. He was hungry last night, but exhaustion won over eating. Now, he's never tasted anything better in his life. It's gone far too soon, but he knows eating more would just result in a stomachache that he has no desire to deal with.

Eventually he pokes his head outside the door, which is still cracked open from the night before. There's another thin layer of snow from last night, but it's warmer than it was before. The sun is brighter than recent days and there's water dripping from the roof of the Twoleg nest. A fresh set set of paw-prints twists away through the snow before he catches sight of the black and white she-cat, crouched on top of the fence. Her fur is fluffed up against the lingering chill, but her blue eyes are slitted against the blazing sun. Her head still swivels around to him as soon as he steps outside, but she smiles.

"Slept long enough?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"Nyla. By the way. Because you never asked," she says, and she's teasing him again, but he still feels bad.

"Sorry. Did you, uh, did you catch the squirrel?"

"Nah. Twolegs left it for you." The teasing is starting to hurt his head, but she laughs and leaps down from the fence. "Sorry. You really do look rough. Thought you could use it."

"I— thank you. I'm sorry, I just haven't ... talked to anyone in a while."

She stares at him. She's a lot closer now. "What's a while?"

"Six moons, give or take." He winces. It sounds a lot worse, out-loud, like he's some sort of recluse, or loner that just hates the company of others. The she-cat - Nyla - watches him, like she's trying to figure him out, and it makes his skin itch under his pelt. The worst part is, she looks sorry for him. It's a lot like the looks Micky kept sending his way, only it's worse, because it's not like he can run away from her in broad daylight.

Well, he could. He just would feel bad.

"Well, what are you doing around here, then? Seems like the last place someone whose been alone for that long would go."

"I've just been moving for a while; figured this might be the safest place to stay."

"It is - usually anyway," Nyla hums. "Couple of nasty ones come down from the mountains from Fable's group occasionally, looking for certain cats, but if you stay out of their way they'll leave you alone. Like I said, usually."

"From Fable's group?" He startles. Because that has to be—

Nyla's watching him, head tilted to the side. "You just got a weird look in your eyes. Kinda funny."

"Where in the mountains?" He asks, suddenly, and he has no doubt that he looks freaked out.

"Don't know. Not like I have any interest in following them back out there and finding out. I like my life right where it is."

His heart feels like it's going to explode out of his chest. Ten moons, and he hasn't found anything, hasn't heard the barest whisper, and all it took was coming here. He's already stepping away, already half-prepared to run over every inch of surrounding mountains, when Nyla steps in front of him.

"You're from the Clans, aren't you?" She asks softly, and he shuts everything back down instantly. He knows that information is dangerous. Knows that he could die for it, and if part of his Clan is alive he can't die. Not until he finds out.

"You know, you're terrible at hiding things," Nyla says, but it's not teasing this time. She looks genuinely concerned. "You can tell me, you know. It's not like I'm going to hand you over."

"It's my fault."

He stops, realizing all at once that that wasn't supposed to come out, but it's too late now, isn't it? It is his fault, and no one knows it, and he just wants someone to know, no matter how terrible it all is.

"I really don't think it could be your fault. It's not like you set that fire. I mean, it almost made it's way here, before the twolegs managed to put it out, but stuff like that happens. It's natural."

It's not natural. It's his fault. He knew what Shadestrike was planning and he was too blind, to idiotic to realize she was actually going to go through with it. She killed the Clans and he let her. Maybe that makes him a traitor too. But if there's some chance, no matter how slim, that some of his family is still alive somewhere in these mountains, then he's going to find them.

He's about ready to try and leave again when Nyla speaks.

"Just, don't go. I might know someone who can help you."

He turns back to her, just the slightest bit, and she visibly deflates.

"Two friends of mine, they live just at the edge of twoleg place. The last time some of the messengers from Fable's group came down they took someone. My friends tried to follow them back up, to see where he was being taken. I don't think they made it the whole way there, but they could probably point you in the right direction, at least."

She waits, and he waits, and when he doesn't leave she smiles again. He's already starting to get used to that smile.

"Okay. We could go now, then?"

He nods. She radiates relief, relief that he's not going to go running off and get himself killed. The last time someone cared about him, really cared, the Clans still lived in the mountains.

Nyla leaps back over the fence, and he follows. She keeps peering back over her shoulder to make sure he's following.

"You'll like them, I'm sure. Ari and Jasper are good cats, they're some of my closest friends—"

He feels bad for not listening to her, but his mind is already miles away. After all this time, there could still be a chance. Ten moons is a long time, an even longer time for prisoners to survive. But it's possible. His Clan was always impossibly resilient, stubborn. He used to be, once upon a time. If anyone could survive, it's them.

He hopes. He hasn't had this much hope in a long, long time.

It might be all he has left now.

* * *

I'm way too tired and also lazy to write some sort of informational or witty AN right now, so.

Go nuts.


	4. Youngbloods

Chapter Two.

* * *

 **Nyla - Twoleg Place.**

* * *

She doesn't want to say that Ghost is weird, but well.

It's the truth.

She can't say she blames him, exactly. He didn't exactly deny the whole Clan thing. She doesn't know all that much, but she knows enough. There used to be two Clans in the mountains, off to the west, and then they were wiped out. She always wondered if there could've been survivors, but everyone dismissed it.

You don't get the look in your eyes that Ghost does from _nothing_. He looks traumatized, like he's been alive for too long even though he can't be that much older than she is. There's something haunted about him in general, and anyone could see it. So she gives him the benefit of the doubt. Her mother would chastise her, and her father would keep her locked up away from anything like this, but neither of them are here anymore to do anything about it.

Ghost could use a friend. Not even that, just someone to help him. Anyone at all is better than nothing.

She wishes he would talk more, though.

For the past hour he's been following behind her diligently, only talking when he comments on something completely normal to her. It's _that thunderpath is smaller than the normal ones_ or _this place is quieter than I thought it would be_. All things that she deals with every day. It's an effort, in the very least. To be completely honest, she expected silence. If it had been nothing but silence this would have been one awkward walk.

"How do you know about the Clans?"

She peers over her shoulder. Even just being in Twoleg Place is making him uncomfortable, but he hasn't left yet. Still, he flattens his ears to his head, looking more nervous than before. "I just didn't think anyone would know ... it's not like they were exactly close by."

"My father was a bit of a wanderer when he was younger. Traveled a lot. He says he met the Clans. I don't know if I believe him," she laughs. "Always made stuff up to make it sound cooler. And I mean, when the fire came from the west, and then word got around that Fable's group had acquired twenty-something odd prisoners, news spread fast. I think everyone just assumed."

"What happened to your father?" Ghost asks, already deflecting back away. Every time he brings it up, this happens.

"Don't know. He left a few moons after I was born and never came back. Once I was old enough, my mother moved in with some twolegs. Didn't really feel like doing that myself." She was never going to be a housecat, no matter who tried to force it. She loved the sky too much, the scent of rain on the horizon, the breeze through her fur. She had friends out here. Things that she wouldn't want to leave.

"Your father could've met the Clans," Ghost interjects, like he spent the entire time thinking about it. "We weren't exactly hostile to outsiders. Not even to each other. Maybe he did."

"Maybe," she hums. It's a nice fantasy, to think that he really did. But does it really matter, now? There's no way he's ever coming back, after this long, and she hasn't seen her mother in moons. Besides some of her closer friends, like Ari and Jasper, she really only has herself to rely on.

Kind of like Ghost. She's just learned to handle herself better.

"Were your parents still alive when the Clans fell?" She decides to ask after a moment, almost afraid that he'll shut down again. To his credit, Ghost's facial expression doesn't change in the slightest. Maybe it's the sleep, or the meal he had this morning, but he looks calmer than last night.

"No. My father died in an avalanche not long after my brother and I were made warriors. My mother was an elder when she died. She lived a good life."

Warriors. She's heard that term before. She knows enough to recognize that there's no way his name is actually Ghost. According to her father, the whole lot of them had weird names. Things that described their ambitions, their skills, what they looked like. Instead of just picking a name randomly from their brain they put thought into it, effort. More than her parents did.

She can't bring herself to ask him that one, though. For some reason a name, a real name, seems so much worse than asking anything else. Whatever his name was, he clearly isn't that anymore.

"So you were a warrior, then?"

"Deputy. Like a second-in-command."

It's hard to think of this shell of a cat walking alongside her as a second-in-command. As someone who led, in some capacity. But she can imagine it. If he wasn't half-wasted away he'd be bigger, bigger than her, and broad-shouldered where she was tall. He's got enough of himself left inside that she can tell he was easy-going, gentle when he had to be.

Gentle doesn't work well out here, anymore.

"And what about your brother?"

That's when he shuts down. She recognizes it out of the corner of her eye without even really having to pay attention. His eyes go carefully blank, almost like he's lost inside his own head for a second.

"Ghost?"

He flinches, and goes to look at her only to avoid her eyes entirely. As if she didn't feel bad enough.

"Sorry. You— you don't have to talk about that, you shouldn't have to."

Case closed on that conversation, but he still doesn't look relieved as they come up to the edge of the trees. He stops, staring at the forest around them, and then glances back at the thunderpaths behind them, the nests.

"I thought you said they lived just at the edge?"

"They do. But I haven't seen them, or scented them, so they're probably just inside the forest hunting or something. It's alright."

He blinks, like the thought of her looking for them the entire time they've been talking is a foreign concept. Her attention has been divided, but there really has been no sign of them. They spend more time in the woods than anywhere else, though.

"If you want, you can stay here. I'll go find them. I'm telling you, they won't be far—"

"No. I'm coming."

Alright, then. She waits until the last little path before the woods is silent before darting across, Ghost at her heels. The trees here are impossibly tall, the underbrush thick, but she's been here a hundred times looking for them, hunting with them. There's a reason they're her closest friends; they're good company, and they make her laugh, and she feels like she has siblings when she's with them.

Once they're under the canopy Ghost lets her wander ahead a bit. He takes to staring upwards, watching as birds flutter in-between the trees, at the sun filtering through and melting the snow underneath. Soon it'll turn to new-leaf, and it'll look even better here. Honestly, it can't come fast enough. Her fur isn't as thick as most, and it's _cold_. She can only sit in the sun for so long.

"Ari!" She shouts, leaping over a fallen tree to the other side. Ghost is still a ways back, staring around like there's no tomorrow. "If you're trying to scare me or dive-bomb me for the thirtieth time, it's not going to work!"

There's a sharp crack in the branches, somewhere to her left and behind her.

It takes only a second after that for a disturbingly loud screech to reach her ears. She can _hear_ Ari and Jasper, hear their half-muted voices, but when she turns around she can't see them, and Ghost is gone too.

Great.

* * *

 **Goldenleaf - MountainClan Camp.**

* * *

She's long since gotten used to the darkness.

They didn't bother sealing the den at first. There were a lot more of them alive back then, though. A week after they first shoved almost the entire Clan in here, Buzzardflight started fighting back. The only family he had left was Mothtail. He had lost Sorrelstar, and they had no idea where Lichenwhisker or Brackenpaw were - if they had escaped or if they were lying dead and scorched back in their home.

Three days later they threw Buzzardflight back into their den, bleeding and half-dead. The entrance started getting sealed after that.

She doesn't know how they ended up here.

They lost too many. Fought back too hard. Flamestorm and Hailfoot died before they even made it here, lost somewhere in the deep chasms of the mountains. Mothtail died a week after Buzzardflight almost did, and he nearly lost his mind. They went two months before they lost someone else.

She couldn't save Minnowstream. That's what Lichenwhisker would have told her. That's what everyone here _did_ tell her, one after the other, as many times as they had to until she believed them. A she-cat giving birth to kits was hard enough on it's own. She lost the first two kits, and then Minnowstream, and the next morning one of Fable's soldiers took the remaining kit away.

It was too much to lose at once.

Goldenleaf closes her eyes again, and she feels Pandora press against her side. She doesn't know where Pandora came from, doesn't know how she ended up here, but she's been the closest thing to a friend she has.

Blossomcreek's shuddering, weak breaths are the only thing she can hear in the den aside from her own heartbeat. They're going to lose her soon. It's inevitable, at this point, and it still hurts and she just wants it to _stop_. For all she knows Blossomcreek is the last living member of SlopeClan that hasn't turned to Tempest's side, and she wants nothing more than for her to survive.

She won't.

"It's alright," Pandora murmurs. Her eyes settle on Flintpaw and Starlingpaw, who should be full-grown warriors but yet look like weak little kits, turned to nothing but skeletons from starvation and beating. Curled together, patchy fur blending into one, they at least look warm.

"There's nothing you can do?" Fish asks quietly, and she flinches. She forgot he was even here. Most new arrivals don't last longer than three days.

"She doesn't know what's wrong," Pandora says for her. "It's not a normal sickness. It's something inside her. Goldenleaf can't do anything."

It's one of those days where things feel so hopeless that she doesn't know how to function. Fish lays back down and gives up, like he knows it's one of those days too. They lay in silence. Pandora doesn't bother saying anything, because she knows by now that it won't help. Without Pandora, _she'd_ probably be dead.

The boulder moves, and a crack of light slices through the den. Goldenleaf blinks, staring, and then the boulder disappears entirely. She watches Fish brace himself, like he's mentally preparing to get tossed around by the guard like he did yesterday. It wouldn't be all that surprising. Ripper steps inside, and Fish flinches, but she already knows nothing is going to happen. Nothing ever does, with him.

"Relax," she says quietly, and stands up. Her joints ache, but it's nothing she hasn't felt for moons. There's prey dangling from his jaws, more than she's seen in a while, and her mouth waters. Ripper drops the prey at his feet - there's a mouse, and almost an entire rabbit, and a sparrow. She leans over and touches her nose to his. He looks skinner than usual, and tired, like he hasn't been sleeping.

"Pretty sure you aren't supposed to be bringing that much prey to us."

"Pretty sure I'm not supposed to be bringing _any_ prey to you," he points out. "I went out early."

Fish is staring incredulously between the two of them. "Now hold on a minute. He's one of the guard. I saw him yesterday. Are you this friendly with all of them?"

"I said _relax_ ," Goldenleaf repeats, and then turns back to Ripper. "You need to eat too, you know."

Ripper shrugs, and Pandora rolls her eyes. "Last time I checked, you were the one with a mate and kits. Stop worrying about us."

All Ripper _does_ is worry about them. Maybe that comes from being raised in a Clan. If the Clans had a few more days he would've been Frozenpaw, and he would've had a mentor and his family surrounding him. Now Jaytalon and Wrensong are gone, and so is Skykit, and the family Frozenkit knew has vanished. He's older, now, and he would've been an amazing warrior. Frozenkit turned into Ripper when he joined the guard, to save himself. To save them.

"They already ate this morning, don't worry. But I want you to come check on the kits, I already got permission, I'm just worried that—"

"We've already established you worry too much," she points out, already moving for the entrance of the den. She'll eat when she comes back, if she eats at all. Flintpaw and Starlingpaw need it more than she does, and so does Pandora. Maybe she could even get Blossomcreek to eat a little, to see if that would help.

She follows Ripper out of the den, wincing at the sun. She hasn't been outside properly in a while. There's too many cats milling around on the mountainside, too many hostiles glares at the sight of her. Ripper doesn't care, he never has, but he still does his best to shield her from them. Bandit stares at her, blue eyes frosty, and she can't even remember a time when he was Badgerfang. His kits are still alive in the prisoner den and he doesn't care, not about their safety or what happens to them.

"Bandit doesn't trust you," she says under her breath.

"What else is new? He never has."

"You have to be careful, you know. You defected to Tempest's side, you can't keep doing this—"

"You made me, all of you. You wanted me to survive and I get that, but you can't stop me from doing this."

Absentmindedly, she wonders when the tiny little kit she helped deliver as an apprentice became so stubborn. But he stares, mismatched eyes that once startled her that she's long since gotten used to, and she knows why, in the very least. He's lost enough too.

They don't have a nursery here, not properly, just Ripper's den that functions well enough as one. Sophie is lying in the only patch of sun at the edge of the den, three kits tumbling around her paws. Sophie may have been a kittypet a long time ago, may have gotten dragged into this accidentally, but she looks happy, staring at her three kits. When Ripper appears she smiles, rising to her paws, and rubs her muzzle against his.

"Hi Goldenleaf!" One of the kits chirps, little Angel, and then she launches herself onto her father's back, digging in her claws. Her white fur is dusty from scuffling, and her brown and white patched brothers look no better, rolling around on the ground.

"It's good to see you," Sophie says, but she looks solemn, and it's not hard to see why. Goldenleaf knows she looks bad, her fur unkempt and hanging off her shoulders. "The kits are fine, Ripper, you didn't need to make her come all the way over here."

She can never get properly angry at Ripper, but she whacks him gently with her paw. He just smiles at his mate, and it hits her all of a sudden that it really shouldn't be like this. They should have a normal life with their kits and they should've gotten to grow up properly.

"It's alright," Goldenleaf says as Elias tumbles across the ground straight into her paws. "It's good to get out. They're getting big."

It's good to feel normal for a second, to have the sun soak into her fur like she's still in the ValleyClan camp. Ripper wouldn't have met Sophie, if he had grown up in the Clan, and he'd be a young warrior. He probably wouldn't have kits yet, but maybe he'd be thinking about it.

"How's Shiera?" She asks. Just because someone took Minnowstream's kit doesn't mean she still doesn't care about her. Shiera isn't a Clan cat, not really, because she didn't get to grow up there and she doesn't know how everything works, but it's close enough. The bond is still here, even if Shiera doesn't quite know it. They're half-sisters, for whatever that counts as, even if the magnitude of that hasn't hit either of them.

"Herself," Ripper says simply. "Out on her own a lot, like usual. I still check on her, don't worry."

She watches Elias and Leo roll across the rocky floor of the den, smiles as she notices Angel still clinging to Ripper's back like she doesn't plan on letting go.

"I should probably be getting back," she assumes, and Ripper nods.

"I can take you back, if—"

"No, no, stay here. I can walk myself back. They know I'm not going to run."

She touches noses with Sophie, and nuzzles each of the kits, who squeal and dart away. Angel smiles at her, bright and beautiful, almost blending into the fur of her father's back.

"It'll all be okay, you know," Ripper tells her as she brushes past him, touching her muzzle to his shoulder. He's lying. They both know he's lying, because nothing is okay and nothing's been okay for a long time. Just now, though, it almost felt like it could be. There's hope here, hope for the future and for his kits. That they'll grow up and change things, maybe. It would be nice.

She doesn't make her away across the camp alone very often, but she keeps her head down. She can still feel the gazes of other cats burning holes into the side of her pelt, feel the guard watching her. Waiting for an opportunity to strike, if she so much as steps in the wrong direction.

She doesn't.

And when she gets back to the den, Blossomcreek is dead.

* * *

Back at it again with the Friday updates and not knowing what to say here.

As per usual.


	5. The Unexpected

Chapter Three.

* * *

 **Ghost - Woods outside Twoleg Place.**

* * *

Someone literally lands on him.

He had just been standing there, glancing around. This place almost reminded him of the woods around their old gathering place. It was a little denser, a little darker, but it almost looked familiar. Almost. The snow was thinner here too, like it hadn't quite figured out how to permeate through the trees just yet.

He's so busy looking around that when he gets landed on, his brain does nothing but shut down completely out of sheer confusion.

One second he's looking around, watching as Nyla disappears off the other side of a fallen tree, and the next he's crumpling down to the ground with someone's weight on his back. He starts sliding backwards, down the little slope they walked up, and he closes his eyes and just accepts that he's going to be sliding for eternity. The weight on top of him certainly isn't helping matters.

"—would you quit it? I'm pretty sure he's not endangering us."

"You don't know that."

"He was with Nyla, sis."

He cracks his eyes open as he comes to a halt, half on his back and his side. There's a dark ginger she-cat on top of him, hanging onto his shoulders, and there's a black tom a little ways to his left. He locks eyes with him.

"Oh, look. You didn't kill him. That's good."

The she-cat snorts and looks down at him, grinning. All he manages to do is make some sort of pathetic, weak noise that doesn't sound anything like a word. Their eyes are matching amber. That must explain the _sis_ , then. It still doesn't explain why he's getting squished.

"Guys! Are you serious?" He hears Nyla call out, and he lets out a deep breath filled with relief. She's standing at the top of the hill, looking annoyed, but she's also almost smiling. It's kind of insulting. He _did_ just get knocked down a hill by someone, but this apparently isn't all that much of a surprise to her. Ghost just wish he had a bit of warning. Like an hour ago.

"Get off him!" Nyla laughs, and she skids down the hill and pushes the ginger she-cat off him, albeit gently. He lays there for a moment, still so genuinely confused it hurts, and then scrambles back to his paws. Twigs and flecks of dirt slide off his already ruined pelt. No one pays him any mind, though. Nyla touches her nose to each of the other cats, and _of course_ these are the ones that have to be her friends. There's no way they aren't.

"Sorry," Nyla says sheepishly. "Are you okay?"

The ginger she-cat grins, but there's no malice behind it.

"Yeah. Don't worry." He might be a little peeved, but he suspects that it's more the natural easiness between these three than the fact that he just got jumped by them.

"This is Ari and Jasper," she says, waving her tail at the ginger she-cat and then the black tom in turn. "And I swear, they're not usually this bad."

"Ariadne, technically," Ari or Ariadne says, and his head already hurts a bit.

"Yeah, try saying that fives times fast, though," Jasper says, completely deadpan. "I told you mom liked me better."

Hearing them makes the ache in his chest flare up a bit. Him and Jaytalon were like this as apprentices. These two, Ari and Jasper, can only be a few moons younger than him, but they still have the child-like innocence of cats who have never had anything bad happen to them in their lives. He's happy for them, oddly enough. He'd be happier if his shoulders didn't hurt.

"Seriously, though, Ari is fine. And I'm sorry for jumping on you."

He nods, feeling some of the tension leak out of his muscles. But as soon as everyone's gazes snap to him, seemingly all at once, his muscles coil, locking like he's trying to root himself to the ground.

 _Don't run_. They're not here to hurt you. They're here to help.

It takes a lot to convince his own mind of things, sometimes.

"So," Jasper says, like he can feel the tension in the air. They all can. "Haven't seen you in a few days, Nyla. Everything alright?"

Ghost notices he casts a glance towards him, like he might be part of the problem. And well, he is. It's not like he can deny it. He's the only reason Nyla's out here in the first place. That's not enough to warrant him feeling bad, so he doesn't. If he's going to function, he needs to do it properly.

"Of course!" She insists. "Just think you could be of some help. Why, am I not allowed to come around?"

"Nah, you're not welcome here," Ari purrs, touching her nose to Nyla's ear. "But for real, explain."

Nyla casts a wary glance at him, then, like she's unsure of how much information she's allowed to divulge. And really, he doesn't quite know either. Even the amount he told her on the way here downright terrifies him. Part of it comes from the lack of conversation he's had with frankly anyone, but he remembers her words from this morning. Cats get taken for having information like this. He has no idea what would happen if someone ever found _him_.

If he tells them ... that means he's putting them in danger too. Nyla already is. He doesn't know if he can make it worse.

"I—," he starts a little hesitantly. "I think we should go hole up somewhere. Explaining this could take a while."

Nyla shoots him a small, encouraging smile. But it's enough. They deserve to know. If they really are going to help him, in whatever way he can.

"Alright, then!" Ari announces. Jasper looks skeptical, but also worried. Immensely worried, and it looks a lot like a permanent facial expression of his. "And hey, what are we supposed to call you?"

He wonders if Nyla has figured it out, that Ghost isn't his real name. Probably. She isn't stupid. But he still doesn't hesitate.

"Ghost."

* * *

It's still light out when they make it to a place that Jasper and Ari both deem as safe. It looks a lot like a barn, which doesn't make much sense in this location, and it doesn't smell the same. The only thing that really matters to him is that it's empty. Regardless, the four of them end up perched high in the rafters, on Ari's insistence that twolegs still come in here sometimes.

There's tons of them, milling around outside. None of them had looked much in their direction, but it had still shot his nerves. He wasn't used to them. Not like this.

"Sometimes," Jasper repeats, noting his nervous glance around. "Don't worry. They won't bug us."

It still takes him a few minutes, legs pulled tight underneath him, just staring at the ground like he's terrified something is going to emerge from the ground and eat him.

It's official. He's been reverted back into kit-state.

Not even Nyla says anything, though. For all her open-ness, she's starting to take on the same look Jasper had when they were leaving the forest. That might be because of how much time she evidently spends around him.

"You sure do know how to pick 'em, Nyla."

He blinks, and Ari is grinning at him again. Jasper huffs out a laugh under his breath, and Nyla shakes her head, trying not to grin herself. Somehow, Ari always knows how to sound like she's just trying to make it easier, though. He almost wants to smile himself, but it doesn't feel right.

He has to start at the beginning. Or at least something that will resemble a beginning for the three of them.

They don't need to know everything.

It's easy, to tell them what he told Nyla. About the Clans, and the fire. His parents. But that's all mundane stuff, the things he's thought about a thousand times since he's been alone. It's thinking of the now, of everything that's happened since then.

He'd given up hope. Accepted that they were probably all dead and he was never getting them back. Getting the Clan back.

"If Fable is still up there, if he still has his group, then there could still be some of them alive. I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong. But I have to know."

"I think we all understand that," Jasper says evenly. He and Ari both look a bit startled, to say the least. It's not all that surprising.

"How'd it happen?" Ari asks suddenly. "The fire, and everything. Why'd Fable take your Clan?"

It's _that_ he doesn't want to think about. He doesn't know if betrayal is just hard to get over or if he's being ridiculous, but ten moons hasn't fixed a thing.

"When I was an apprentice," he says slowly. "There was a cat that stumbled onto our territory. She was barely any older than I was. And she just seemed ... lost. It didn't take much. Our leader took her in, said that she could be a part of our Clan if she could prove her loyalty. And she did."

He swallows, tries to keep his voice level. It doesn't work.

"Her name was Tempest. And Shadepaw, and then Shadestrike."

" _Tempest_ ," Ari blurts out. "As in Fable's second-in-command?"

"She— she wasn't back then. And she said she escaped from them, and we just took her in, and we had no idea—"

"Had no idea about what?" Nyla asks softly. She hasn't said much, since they got in here. Just trying to give him space. His head is reeling from the sheer fact that she's his second-in-command, that she was practically groomed for it from apprentice age. It shouldn't surprise him, and yet it does.

"That she was going to destroy us."

The three of them stare at him, watching, and now he's shaking. Saying it out-loud is worse than re-living it in his head every few nights, and he didn't think that was possible.

"I thought you said a fire wiped you guys out?"

"The fire was the distraction. Shadestrike - Tempest, she did that too. She did all of it and she destroyed us."

"Not completely, though," Jasper says. "Or you wouldn't even bother looking."

"She killed everyone from the other Clan. Or almost everyone. Some of them might have surrendered, or at least escaped. But I know she took my Clan. They didn't kill them all. For whatever reason, she took them back to Fable."

It tapers off into silence, for a second. Maybe because he probably looks a little deranged. Scratch that, a _lot_ deranged. He knows it, they know it. Not one of them looks scared, though. Jasper's got that worrisome look back on his face, and Nyla doesn't know whether to stare at the floor or at him.

"Battle fodder," Ari says thoughtfully. Ghost didn't want to think of that, but there's not many other options. Sure, maybe a few of them would turn for good. But all of them? There wasn't a chance.

Most of them were probably dead. He had to accept that.

But he didn't have to accept them all.

"So what's your plan?" Jasper asks. "Just march up there and take a look? Not a good idea."

"Well, I'll go," Ari piped up. "Got nothing better to do."

"We almost got caught last time," Jasper hisses. "He's got guards, cats patrolling everywhere. I'm not saying I won't help but this is just ... stupid. We're no help to anyone that might still be alive if we get caught."

Jasper's got a point. But he can't wait, not a few days, not weeks, to figure something out.

"I'll go myself. I just need you to point me in the right direction."

"Now that's even stupider than all four of us going," Nyla points out. He thought they would tell him, and he would be able to go. Not that they would ... what, care? Because it seems like they do, a lot more than he thought, and it's freaking him out.

"You're not a one cat army," Nyla continues gently. "You're used to a Clan, you're used to having someone behind you. You can't just go alone. We'll figure something out."

They're not telling him, then. Not unless they have absolute certainty that he won't run off on his own, and he's nowhere close to giving them that. He's torn between getting up and leaving, finding his own way, because there can only be so many mountaintops around here, and waiting. For help. For someone to give him purpose.

"Wasn't going to say this, but well. Heard a lot of weird things tonight, so why not," Ari begins. "Nyla said it. You're used to a Clan. And you were almost a leader before. So why didn't you just make your own?"

He blinks dumbly at her. Why didn't he just make his own? It sounds like such a simple thing, when Ari says it.

It's not.

"That's not— that's really not how it works."

" _Why not_?" She repeats. "Your original Clans didn't just exist, someone made them, had the idea and decided to one day. This is no different."

"It's different," he snaps, not too harshly, but it's enough to make her reconsider. Because really, how does it even happen? Just because he was in one doesn't know how to do it himself. There's StarClan, and a gathering place, and territory, and where do you even begin? There's too much, leagues of things he didn't even dare try to explain to them, and they don't get it.

"All I'm saying," Ari says carefully. "Is that it's possible. You want someone behind you, go get it. Because there are cats here who would do it."

"You don't know that."

"Yeah, I do. _I_ would do it."

He stares at her, and Jasper looks at her a little incredulously, but no one says anything. Even Nyla looks at him, and there's no sign of her denying it either.

"You don't know everything that comes with it. There's a lot," he says.

"Still would," Ari shrugs. "Let me know when we're leaving."

She leaps down from the rafters onto some of the crates below, hitting the ground with barely a sound. He doesn't know where she goes, can't really see from this angle, but she doesn't make to leave.

"We're not leaving!" Jasper shouts after her. He turns back to Ghost. "Not yet. We will. Just gotta think some things through."

He jumps down after her, but doesn't head off in the same direction. It really does look like he's thinking, almost a little too hard. Trying to figure out what their next move is. It's odd, that Jasper seems to care so much, but evidently that is turning out to just be his natural personality.

"We're gonna figure this out," Nyla says, and he nearly forgot she was still up there with him. She brushes her tail over his shoulder and he deflates almost instantly, feeling like he's been awake for days.

"Thanks," he says, barely audible. "For doing this. You shouldn't be."

"Yeah, you're right," she smiles. "I shouldn't be."

* * *

The sun starts to set before anything really happens.

Jasper went off hunting some time ago, saying something about stocking up so they could talk. He wasn't hungry, didn't think Nyla or Ari were either, but he wasn't about to stop him. Not so soon after an offer of help.

He had stayed up in the rafters for a while, just letting himself think. Or stew. A bit of both, really. No one had bothered him, and no one had since. Having the presence of others around him while still having his own space felt nice. Nicer than anything he'd felt recently, at least. The sunlight is starting to slant through the holes in the ceiling, though. Nyla's asleep, after mumbling something about not having slept very well the night before. He feels a little guilty, at that, because she probably was too worried about the stranger that invaded her home.

He doesn't know where Jasper is, but he's easy to lose in the shadows. Combine that with the fact that he doesn't seem like the type for idle chit-chat, and he's not going to bug him.

Ari's sitting by the door, though, a giant wooden thing that doesn't shut properly. She looks a little antsy, and now he's like her and has nothing better to do.

So he jumps down from the rafters and walks over to her.

"Were you serious, about before?"

To her credit, she doesn't even flinch. Just peers over her shoulder at him.

"'Bout what?"

"The Clan thing. Making one. Joining one, if you had the chance."

"Sure," she says, like it's the easiest thing in the world. Maybe it is, to her. She has no idea what it's really like, the trials and tribulations. To outsiders it probably does sound like the simplest thing in the world.

"Jasp would too, he's just being an overprotective idiot. And Nyla."

It's still not that simple, and it never will be, but it still makes him smile. Ari looks ridiculously satisfied with herself, though, and turns to look out the door. With the sun her fur looks more like actual red than ginger, no matter how dark it is, and for the first time in months the colour doesn't unsettle him.

"Were you serious about the other thing?"

Ari blinks at him, a little confused. "What?"

"About going up the mountain."

It doesn't take her that long, but then she grins, and it's already way too familiar. Like Nyla's eyes, and Jasper's constant reassurance. " _Why?_ You wanna go?"

He shrugs, trying to make it look nonchalant, but he can feel it. The itch under his paws, the tug at his feet. He needs to go, he needs to know something, _anything_ , and he doesn't know if he can physically wait any longer.

It's been long enough.

"Well, you might not be a one cat army," Ari tells him. "But I am. So let's go."

He blinks, almost surprised that she's agreeing this easy, but he realizes that this is _her_. She's not going to hesitate. She didn't hesitate about anything earlier, so why should she start now?

"Alright," he agrees, not able to help the smile that's still on his face, despite everything. "Let's go."

* * *

Day late because work kicked my ass. Suffer.


	6. Waiting For The Unknown

Chapter Four.

* * *

 **Reddian - MountainClan Camp.**

* * *

"I was _asleep_."

"You know, for having a built in lie-detector you're a pretty awful liar yourself."

Reddian reaches out, poking a paw into Amarei's side before they can help themselves. They were having such a nice nap, a nap that was for once going completely undisturbed. For once.

First time for everything. And that first time wasn't happening today, apparently.

"Seriously, it's dark out. Why are you waking me up?"

"Tempest wants us to head out. Official orders, I guess."

" _Why_?"

"I don't know why. I didn't ask. She scares me."

"Who? Tempest or Aurane?"

When Reddian finally blinks their eyes open it's to see Amarei scowling. They can't help but laugh a little, but clamber to their feet anyway, wincing. It's way too cold to be living on a mountain, especially at this time of year. It doesn't matter if it's almost new-leaf, it's too cold. They just had to leave the city, had to get acquired by Tempest of all cats.

At least they got the excitement they were so desperately searching for.

"I'm up, I'm up," Reddian insists, noting Amarei's disbelieving glance. "This better be good, we just got back what, two days ago?"

"That's because we left on our own. This time it's sanctioned."

"This time it's _dumb_ ," they mumble under their breath. Amarei smiles though, bumping against their shoulder. Apparently they're in agreement, then. It _is_ dumb.

Aurane's already waiting by the camp entrance, waiting next to two of the guard and looking terribly annoyed by their presence. They can see her visible sigh of relief from here when she realizes she won't be alone with them much longer. There's no sign of Carbunkle, though, not with her or in the vicinity. It's odd enough that they're sending two members of the guard with them instead of two regular old soldiers, but they've accepted that nothing tonight is going to make any sense.

"Where's Zippy?" Reddian asks the second they get close.

"No idea."

"Probably off thinking up a diabolical escape plan," Amarei says, and Aurane rolls her eyes. Not two seconds later Carbunkle appears, trotting across the camp towards them. They're not in any position to judge, but Reddian would bet that's exactly what he was doing. Subtle is a thing of the past with this group.

"Sorry," he says as he comes up to them. "We leaving?"

"Yes," one of the guards says, Reddian thinks that it's Azra but wouldn't exactly bet their life on it. "We were just waiting for _you_. And please tell me the lot of you aren't going to keep up with that name stuff the whole time. I might go insane."

"Yeah, and that'd be a shame," Amarei says simply. She aims for muttering under her breath and achieves way too loud instead. Azra stares at her, and behind her Ripper ducks away before the smile on his face gets a little too obvious.

"Anyway," Aurane says, rolling her eyes again. "Gameplan is we're going down to twoleg place. You were right, Red, apparently Fish did know a thing or two about one of the cats Tempest is looking for. Only took them going after him for a few days for him to finally spill it."

Judging by the look on Carbunkle's face, they also beat Fish into the ground even _after_ he spilled it. It's not all that surprising. That's what you get for lying up here, usually. It's that or death, and frankly Fish should just be grateful he's even still alive.

"So why's he coming then?" Reddian asks, throwing a pointed glance towards Ripper, who stares upwards instead of looking back.

"He'll recognize him if he sees him. Brown tabby with green eyes isn't exactly a lot to go off of for us."

She's right, but trusting Ripper is a separate mission on its own. Former Clan kit who turned to the dark side as an adult doesn't do wonders in settling anyone's mind. But now he's here, and if Tempest sent him then he can't refuse. He has a mate and a kits to worry about if he does. The biggest damage she could do to the group of four of them is taking one away, and that's not going to happen anytime soon.

Absentmindedly, Reddian wonders what is stopping Ripper from just straight up lying about it. All he has to do is say he doesn't recognize them, and that's that. Maybe it wouldn't be quite that easy, but it might give them enough time to disappear before anyone thought to question it.

"You coming?"

Speaking of. Ripper's the only one in the camp left besides them, clearly waiting for Reddian to start moving. Some great friends they have, just leaving them behind in the clearing.

"Yeah, yeah," they mumble, quickly shoving their way past him and out onto the path leading down the mountain. The others have already rounded the corner up ahead and they speed up after them, nearly crashing into Amarei's haunches as they skid through the slick snow. At the very least, could they move _down_ the mountain? There's no realistic reason that the camp needs to be practically on top of it. The thaw has already started down by the lake.

"Is he alright?" They hear Amarei ask Carbunkle, just as they finally catch up. That's obviously about Fish. Carbunkle just shrugs, mouth twisted into a frown. So that's a decidedly firm no, then. That isn't surprising either. What are they supposed to do, though? It's not like they can break Fish out of cat jail with the rest of the prisoners. Well, they could. It just wouldn't be as easy as it sounds in anyone's head.

Seriously, how would they even do that?

Regardless of how, it'd be funny to see. If Fish wasn't half-dead by that point, anyway.

"We'll figure something out," is all they say out-loud instead. Carbunkle turns back for a second, looking surprised, but smiles. In all honesty, Reddian _does_ feel bad. Sure, Carbunkle's always nice and welcoming, the perfect welcome-wagon, but watching him care this much always hurts them to see. So yeah, they should probably do something. At least while they still can.

"Don't smile yet," they continue, quieting their voice as Azra turns around and glares at them. "I never said _what_ we were going to figure out. So what exactly did Fish know, exactly?"

"Apparently a few moons ago he met someone coming through twoleg place and they mentioned something about the Clans to him. Whoever it was, they were looking around to see if there were any survivors. And if it's who Tempest thinks it is, then it's someone she's looking for. Fit the age and description, at any rate."

"It's been _moons_? So how do we know this guy is even still around?"

"We don't?" Carbunkle adds, looking a little confused about that himself.

"You guys really don't ever shut up, do you?" Azra growls.

"Nope!" Amarei says cheerfully. "Gonna be a long walk!"

Azra grumbles something under her breath, but Amarei keeps going. "Really, though! We could talk about all the rocks up here or I could show you how to get around to the other side of the lake using a shortcut. There's some really pretty flowers over there. You should take a look at them some time. Maybe seeing something nice would make you a little less grumpy!"

Azra whips around, eyes a little murderous, but Amarei doesn't stop smiling. She's not going to falter, not when she's got the three of them to back her up. Not with Aurane standing there, staring her back down. There's a challenging glint in her eyes, a smirk curling around her muzzle. One that says _you won't last_. _I dare you._

She doesn't. Of course she doesn't. Azra may look for fights but she doesn't start them if she knows she won't win.

She'd never win this one.

"Where's Ripper?"

Reddian blinks, a little startled at the sudden change of pace. Azra is still facing them, but her eyes are cast past where they stand. Beyond them. Reddian turns, still at the back of the group, and Ripper is nowhere in sight.

"Couldn't tell you."

"You left the camp with him!"

"I didn't know that means I'm supposed to be his babysitter!" Reddian exclaims a little incredulously. How is it their fault? If Ripper can't manage to stay on a trail for more than five minutes, what point is there to him coming with them?

"Maybe he's checking out that shortcut I told you about," Amarei suggests. Azra closes her eyes, taking a breath so massive her shoulders heave with the force of it. He really isn't anywhere in sight, though, and they just hit the beginning of the trees. There are so many pawprints and scents intermingled with each other in this area that it would be near impossible to track him.

"I don't really care," Aurane says flatly. "We keep going. He can either catch up or go back to camp. If he fell off a cliff it's really not my problem."

They all pause for a moment anyway, like they're waiting for him to appear. There's barely any sound, the darkness through the trees a looming thing in front of them, and still no sign of him.

It's not that Reddian cares about him either, necessarily.

They just can't help but feel like something just happened.

* * *

 **Ariadne - MountainClan Territory.**

* * *

It doesn't take as long as she thought.

It took longer when her and Jasper came up the last time. That probably had more to do with the fact that they were following a group up. Both of them are plenty fast, her especially so, but then they had to be careful. This time it's the middle of the night, blissfully dark, and there's no one walking fifty feet ahead of them.

She still has to stop every once in a while, breathe in the unfamiliar scents. It's not like they don't ever come up the mountains, they've explored all over them when it's safe, but she's never really called them home. She's always been closer to civilization.

It's nice up here, though. There's still enough trees that the worst of the snow has been kept away, and you can see the stars so much better. It's way too nice, if you ask her, to be home to some raging group of lunatics who take prisoners and kill people for the fun of it.

"Everything all good up there?" She calls, trying to keep her voice quiet. Ghost has wandered a bit ahead, ears pricked. Looking ahead. He's anxious, too anxious, and it's starting to transfer over to her.

"Think so. We're getting closer, I think. Scents are getting stronger."

He's right. There are trails that lead through the forest, snow flattened by countless pawsteps crossing over them throughout the day. There's the scent of fresh blood, too, from recently killed prey and for a second this almost seems like a normal place. Just a spot where a group of cats live together.

She also, conveniently, sticks out like a sore thumb, whereas sometimes she turns around to look for Ghost and she just doesn't see him standing five feet in front of her.

"Wanna tell me about why it would be so complicated, to start a new Clan?"

Ari says it so quietly that for a moment she thinks he doesn't hear. But Ghost turns, contemplating something or other, and then smiles grimly.

"Kind of a long story."

"Well, you can start it, at least. It's not like I'm going anywhere."

He hums quietly. "Like I said, there's all these roles. Like a leader and a deputy, which is what I was. But then warriors, and apprentices, and elders, and you have to maintain it all. But we also have this thing called a medicine cat."

There's already half a dozen questions roaming through her mind, but she stays quiet. Ghost will explain it eventually, if past conversations are anything to go by. They have time.

"In the Clans, we believe in this thing called StarClan. It's where you go when you pass on. We can communicate with them, ask them for help. In turn they can give us prophecies, omens, advice. Anything, really. That's what our ancestors are there for. To help us. That's what a medicine cat does. They communicate with them for the whole Clan, when they're not being healers."

"And it really exists? StarClan?"

Ghost blinks, looking pleasantly surprised that she's not writing the idea off entirely.

"They do. I know it sounds ridiculous."

"It doesn't. If you believe in it, then it's not ridiculous. Obviously it means a lot to you," she tells him, and it almost looks like he considers that. "You do still believe in them, right?"

"The last ten moons ... I thought that they would help. Point me in a direction. And they haven't. It's disheartening, to believe in something your whole life and then to just have it vanish."

"Maybe it's just as hard for them as it is for you."

Ari couldn't imagine herself, being dead and watching with no power to stop it as everyone she loved got slaughtered, taken away. She could almost see him close off immediately, face shuttering over as he looked back up the mountain. And maybe that should be the end of that. But she didn't want it to be.

"Alright, so step one. Find StarClan. Got it. I'll put Jasper on that when we get back."

It startles a laugh out of him, even as his gaze remained on the path ahead. "Still not _quite_ that simple. But thanks."

She nods, although she wasn't entirely kidding. If finding that was a step, then it had to happen eventually.

"What else is there?"

"Well, there's a code, that we follow as warriors. And finding a camp, and territory, and making borders. It's a lot of stuff, believe me. I'm not just saying this stuff because I don't want to," he tells her. At least, in the past few hours, he hasn't been completely closed off to the idea. Certainly not as stand-offish as he had been initially. Progress, no matter how little, was still valuable.

Eventually, they shuffled to a halt not far from the edge of the treeline. An expanse of smooth and tumbling rock laid in front of them, the snow thicker and packed down. They couldn't see anything, no matter how hard they looked.

Her and Jasper had already stopped by this point. They _had_ seen others. It had been at quite a distant, but all of a sudden there were more than what they had followed up, and it got too nerve-wracking. No one would blame them for running, for not looking back.

It's just, well, she's back here now, and she can't just leave Ghost.

"You should stay here," Ghost says, and she knows it's because she sticks out like no tomorrow, but she snorts and rolls her eyes. As if she's staying here while he goes off exploring murder land on his own.

It's like he expects that though, because he doesn't stop her from following.

As soon as they step clear of the trees, out into the open, they barely move. Ari presses herself as flat to the ground as she physically can, Ghost doing the same.

The worst part is, they have no plan. No idea where the camp is, no idea how to find out. Even less of a clue of how to get close.

"What should we do?" Ghost shakes his head, clearly not having the faintest clue himself. With all the time they spent walking up here, you'd think they'd have figured it out _before_ now. Or even five minutes ago. Anything would be better than just sitting here, waiting to get caught.

Well, then. Guess she has to do something.

Ari starts creeping forward, flattened into the snow. Ghost stays, un-moving, as she creeps up to what looks to be the biggest path in the area. The rock beneath is smooth and well-worn. Well-traveled. A glance up and down the path, curving around the mountain, shows nothing. At least she hopes.

She turns back to Ghost, and he's frozen in place, staring at absolutely nothing.

"Ghost," she hisses. He doesn't look at her. Doesn't do much of anything, really. She chances a glance up the path again. Still nothing. It doesn't mean there won't be something really soon.

"Ghost!"

He's still got that terrifyingly blank look in his eyes, even when she runs back down and nudges him. Finally, after a long moment, he blinks, taking a few seconds to come back to himself. She's still staring at him, wide-eyed and too confused to really process.

"We have to go."

"What?" She exclaims, a tad on the loud side. He practically shoves her back down the trees. That's when she hears the voices.

Ghost barely has time to practically tackle her behind a rock when she sees them. A group of five, coming down the path. Most of them are talking, albeit loudly. The one in the lead looks like she's contemplating throwing herself off the cliff.

The rock is digging painfully into her side, and Ghost is back to looking half-blank and it's _terrifying_. The group is too close and they're walking past, a little ways to the right, but if they come this way they're done.

"We're safe," Ghost says, whisper-soft, and she's almost convinced she didn't hear him right. But he doesn't look scared at all, and she doesn't get it.

They're safe.

It doesn't make any sense.

But thinking about what she told him earlier, if he believed in something, then it couldn't be ridiculous. She's almost considering taking that back, just now.

Almost.

They're _safe_.

And maybe, just maybe, he's not lying.

* * *

Cliffhangers that make no sense, part ii.

Also prayer circle that this hell website is no longer broken.


	7. Family Remains

Chapter Five.

* * *

 **Ghost - MountainClan Territory.**

* * *

 _Move._

He heard the voice in his head and nearly went into shock.

It hadn't even been two days since he heard Jaytalon's voice in his head, and there it was again. Just like the first time, it stunned him into silence. Into an un-moving, useless shell of a cat.

That's when he remembered that Ari was still with him.

Maybe it was talking about StarClan, or something, but they were still here with him. And right now, he was being told to move. To maybe not be standing so out in the open, just waiting to be stumbled upon. His head is still swimming when the two of them finally end up behind a rock that'll work for now, but not forever.

Ari says something, something he doesn't hear at all, still stuck in his own head.

It didn't take him by surprise the next time he hears it.

 _Stay where you are. You're safe._

He didn't feel safe, and judging by the fact that Ari was locked tight beside him, muscles coiled like she was ready to either run or fight, whichever opportunity presented itself first, she didn't either.

Regardless, he didn't move. Told Ari as much. Recognized the fact that she didn't know whether or not to believe him.

 _Jaytalon?_

Please, don't be gone. Not again.

A beat, and then he heard it again.

 _Just- Just shut up for a second._

Well. That sounded like his brother if he ever heard him. It made him want to just crumple to the ground and cry, hearing that. He couldn't, but he wanted to. Not when they could still be in very real danger, for all he knew, and when he had Ari here. There would be time for that much, much later.

He watches the patrol leave over his shoulder, sees them disappearing into the trees. It's almost like he can picture Jaytalon watching them too, making sure they leave.

He can still see them, slowly getting further and further away.

 _Don't freak out. Please._

Ghost doesn't even get a second, the faintest moment to contemplate that sentence, before someone lands on him.

He's already getting _real_ tired of getting landed on.

Whoever it was, decidedly not Ari, because he gets one last glance at her before he gets a face full of snow, didn't even seem to be trying to hurt him. He doesn't go sliding all that far, but he can't see through the ice crystals and snow in his eyes. All he recognizes is the fact that whoever's pinning him to the ground gets dragged off and thrown a good few feet away, judging by the harsh _thump_.

He staggers to his feet and Ari is by his side, fur bristling, claws out, looking torn between anger and confusion. Ghost takes a second to look over his shoulder. The patrol is out of sight, but they can't be far. None of them made a sound. Not him when he dropped, not his attacker when he landed.

When he turns back, his heart stops.

It's not him making a joke. He feels something stutter to a stop deep in chest, feels whatever air is in his lungs freeze. His blood goes so cold everything feels numb, and he doesn't know how to feel anything, at that point.

Suddenly, the _don't freak out, please_ , is starting to make all sorts of sick, twisted sense.

Staring back at him, one of Wrensong's yellow eyes and one of Jaytalon's blue, is the Frozenkit he thought for certain would be dead.

Ghost can't move, can't force his body into action, into doing anything other than just _standing there._

Frozenkit stares back at him, but he's not Frozenkit anymore, there's no possible way. They're the same size now; but his fur is still that pale gray and white, washed silver in the moonlight. He looks haggard, tired, older than he is. On edge, like they all are. By now Ari is staring between them, sudden realization dawning in her eyes.

He tries to speak, tries to have anything come out that would make sense, but all he gets is a strangled croak.

"Iceheart," is all the not-Frozenkit standing in front of him says. He doesn't know why he expected his voice to be the same, but this isn't the six moon old he last saw sleeping in the nursery in ValleyClan's camp. All he can do is nod, hoping that he at least looks a little more put together than he currently feels.

"Who are you?" Ari asks softly, trying to settle herself down. She's speaking for him now, because he still can't manage anything on his own.

Frozenkit doesn't get a chance to answer, though. He opens his mouth, and then stops. He takes two steps forward, and Ghost nearly _panics_ because he doesn't know how to handle this after so long.

"You need to go," he says instead of answering Ari. "Now, you need to go now, someone's coming back to look for me."

Ghost watches him start moving, like he's leaving, and that terrifies him even more. At the last second he turns back to them, eyes wide. But he looks to Ari, in a motion that should surprise him but doesn't.

"You guys need to get down the mountain. Back to twoleg place, before we do. If you don't go fast you won't get there before we go and I don't know what will happen if they see you."

He's talking to Ari, and not him, and for some reason that should be a little bit offensive but all he can do is stare. Stare as this not-Frozenkit takes off in the direction the patrol went, leaving them behind, and what just happened?

 _What just happened?_

"Ghost."

Jaytalon knew this whole time that he was alive.

"Ghost, we need to go."

Ari is nudging him frantically, staring after the patrol. After _Frozenkit_.

"You heard him, alright? We'll sort out ... whatever just happened _later_. When we're safe."

Jaytalon said they were safe. Was he lying? They're not dead, not injured, but Ghost feels like he was lying.

He lets Ari herd him back to the treeline, back onto one of the paths they followed up here. Eventually, they're running. He doesn't know when they started running. There doesn't seem to be enough air in his lungs for him to be running, but he is regardless.

He also doesn't know where his heart is, if it's still inside him or lying back on top of that mountain.

* * *

His brain doesn't allow him to process the amount of time it takes for them to get back to the lake.

Moonlight is still spilling across it, turning it into a glassy silver. The lights of twoleg place are close, but not close enough to taint the darkness. Ari herds him into a thick copse of bramble bushes, shoving him backwards. Thorns prick at his pelt, branches digging into his side, but he lets himself go. Lets himself vanish completely until all he can feel is the thundering of his heart in his chest. Turns out it's still there.

Ari doesn't say anything for a long moment, instead choosing to stare out from in-between the branches, her chest heaving. She swallows, taking a deep breath. Like she's trying to compose herself, and turns back to him.

"They must be moving pretty slow," she says, her voice rough. "There's no sign of them."

She watches, and he doesn't say anything. Several moments later and he still doesn't know what to say. Even if he wanted to begin an explanation out-loud he doesn't know where to start.

It doesn't help that Jaytalon has suspiciously vanished from his head again. It's easy to blame it on their escape, on their run down the mountains. Jaytalon's just giving him space, didn't want to bother him while he was very well running for his life, for all he knows.

That's not the truth, and Ghost knows it.

Ten moons. Ten moons and Jaytalon's known this whole time. Everyone in StarClan has. He's been alone, mentally and physically for that long, and not a single soul has bothered to tell him that he didn't have to be.

"Ghost?" Ari finally asks. "Who was that?"

He doesn't know if his eyes look hollow, but he sure feels that way.

"You don't have to tell me, it would just make it a lot easier to know. Know anything, really. You know I want to help, we all do."

"It was ... that was my nephew. The last time I saw him he was six moons old. I didn't think there was any way he could still be alive."

That's nowhere near good enough of an explanation. It's definitely worse than anything Ari deserves to hear. But he doesn't really _have_ a proper explanation for her. Not yet, anyway, and possibly not anytime soon.

"I didn't know you had a sibling." Is all she says instead, and it occurs to him that he never mentioned that at all. Only Nyla tried to bring it up, after he foolishly mentioned him, but since that she had kept it to herself. Maybe she knew better than to push, or maybe she was just being respectful. Otherwise it's been left alone, and that's probably been for the best.

But it's like Ari said. They want to help. And if they're going to have a remote shot at helping, they need to know every single piece of the puzzle.

"A brother. Jaytalon. He was one of the only ones they killed right away. I found his body when I got back to camp."

All of a sudden, there's an alarming amount of pity in her eyes, and he looks away. Maybe because he's a coward, or maybe because he's spent so long stewing over it that getting these looks ten moons later only makes it worse. That's why he chooses to make it worse on his own, too.

"If it helps any, I was also hearing his voice in his head. That's why I was acting so weird."

The pity vanishes and morphs into something incredulous within seconds. It's almost funny.

"You know you sound crazy, right?" She questions, her head tilted to the side in disbelief. It's a good confirmation, at least. He _feels_ crazy.

"It's just a lot to process," he says weakly, instead of continuing. Ari snorts.

"Yeah, you're telling me."

She turns back around, briefly glancing back through the brambles. There's still no sign of them. They must be slower than Frozenkit thought. Not Frozenkit, not really, but he doesn't know what else to call him.

"So, to recap the night. We snuck away, went up the mountain, you had your dead brother's voice in your head, and you found your nephew who is also your dead brother's son. And then we almost possibly got caught, imprisoned, and subsequently murdered. Want to add anything?"

"Think that's good."

He's calmer now. His heart still wants to explode out of his chest, now that he's pinpointed it again, but he won't let it. Even amidst the panic Ghost can admit that this might be the turning point towards giving him a purpose again. If Frozenkit is alive, then there's more hope than ever before that he's not the only one.

Part of his Clan is still alive, somewhere. He's not alone.

"I should probably head back up the mountain and let them kill me," Ari adds as she shoves her way out of the brambles. He pushes out behind her, eyes narrowed. It's not like he'd let her, of course not, but it's a curious thought regardless.

"Why?"

"Jasper's gonna kill me when we get back anyway. At least with them there's enough of them that maybe they'd do it quickly." She laughs a little, and he finds himself smiling in return. He's been doing far too much of that over the past few days.

Fair enough.

* * *

The building is empty when they get back.

Ari slides through the narrow gap in-between the doors. The sun is just starting to slide over the horizon, but it's still dark inside. He watches her call out, first for Jasper, and then Nyla, and then both. No one slips out of the shadows towards them. There's not even the faintest of noises coming from the gloomiest corners. The rafters where they had perched yesterday are now empty.

"Jasper!" Ari calls one last time, clearly frustrated. She stares up at the roof like it's holding some sort of answer to all of her current problems.

"Maybe they went out looking for us," Ghost suggests, but it has been quite a while. They were gone for half a day. The odds that Nyla and Jasper are both still out there looking isn't that likely.

Which begs the question of where they really are.

"C'mon, they can't be that far off," he says, even though he's exhausted now that the adrenaline has faded off. His paws ache, and he wants nothing more than to lay down and go to sleep with the knowledge that he's safe. He's not safe, though, not really, and neither are Nyla and Jasper if something is wrong.

It's clear that Ari is on edge. It's apparent that her and Jasper are almost attached to each other's sides. Or at least, they would be, if she didn't have a tendency to run off.

He has no idea where to go, so he lets her lead. This part of twoleg is more run-down. The nest they stay in looks like it hasn't been used by any twolegs, at least actively, for quite a while. The lake's edge is in the distance, though, and he can already see some of them milling around. Not enough to warrant any terror, but enough for him to not like it. Not that he ever will.

She leads him into places she clearly knows - some old haunts, some recent. She leaps onto fences and peers through the windows of old, broken nests like she's done it a thousand times.

There's no sign of them, not anywhere, though. It's eerily silent, and it's why he hears the monstrous crash from a few thunderpaths away. They can't see anything, not until Ari leaps from a fence up onto the edge of a roof, so quickly he blinks one second and all of a sudden she's gone.

"Huh, that's not good."

"What's not good?" He asks, stretching up until she moves and he can jump up beside her.

 _Oh_. That's really not good.

He can see it now, some sort of towering twoleg monster, garishly yellow and hunched over a twoleg nest. The roof is half-collapsed, the curved part of the monster buried inside it. Ripping it apart.

And standing on the edge of thunderpath just in front of it, two barely-there pinpricks in the distance, are Nyla and Jasper.

Ari mutters something under her breath, something suspiciously foul, and takes off.

Again. He blinks and she's gone. He should be used to it, by now. It's something she seems to do an awful lot.

She takes off across the rooftop and leaps down, and he has no choice but to follow. By the time he edges himself to the end of the roof she's on the grass below, darting through the narrow space between two more nests. His paws ache worse than before, and he lands hard on a sill below, wincing, but keeps chasing after her.

There's another single, massive fence in-between them and the next thunderpath. The one Nyla and Jasper were on. That alone makes him scramble over it faster than he even thought he was capable of moving in this state.

Ari is standing at the opposite edge of the thunderpath when he finally catches up. A monster roars past, the wind buffeting against his fur, and he flinches.

"Jasper!" She shouts, but the roar of the giant twoleg machine drowns her out. It takes another part of the roof away in it's jaws, and Jasper moves _closer_ , Nyla on his heels.

Ghost is about to consider himself the sane one of the group when Jasper leaps through a broken window into the building.

Yeah. He's definitely becoming the sane one.

Nyla takes one fleeting glance around, and follows, glass scattering onto the ground outside. The monster isn't moving, but it's still taking parts of the building away, wide chunks of brick raining down onto the grass.

"I'm going to kill him before he kills me," Ari hisses. She looks one way, then the other, and takes off across the thunderpath before he can process it. Ghost has no choice but to stand there for a moment, waiting for another monster to pass, as she darts across the grass and leaps through the window after them.

It takes a moment for his heart to stop racing long enough to cross the thunderpath himself. The monster creaks, and for one horrifying moment Ghost thinks it's coming to eat him. Maybe he's not the sane one quite yet. It just moves a few inches before stopping again, and he leaps onto the windowsill, peering in.

It's pitch black, and he jumps in anyway. His terrible decision making skills aren't through yet.

There are heavy planks of wood scattered across the floor, glass a minefield around his paws. He carefully shuffles forward, trying to search out anyone in the darkness. Ari's already gone, and he can hear someone shouting. For a moment, he recognizes Nyla's voice. But then another. And he definitely doesn't recognize that. It's younger, higher-pitched. Infinitely more terrified than he thought he was capable of feeling.

Something's wrong. He doesn't know what, but they're less safe than they were on that mountaintop.

The roof creaks again. A plank of wood crashes to the floor two feet to his left, and he leaps away.

He sees the bright yellow of the monster descending, and he knows what's going to happen before it does.

There's no one to yell to. No one to warn. He already knows it's coming, and he has nothing but seconds to move. The entire roof gives away under one final push, debris raining down all around him. Crashing into his legs, something slamming into his back. A larger piece nearly takes him to the ground, and he starts moving. Running, as fast as he can manage, just as the last of it comes down.

Everything goes terrifyingly dark.

He doesn't imagine it's going to be light again anytime soon.

* * *

Your fave is problematic, xFallenSkyx: bugs me on Discord to update despite knowing what days I update on.


	8. Age of Innocence

Chapter Six.

* * *

 **Jasper - Collapsed Building, Edge of Twoleg Place.**

* * *

He loses track of Nyla.

She hadn't been too far ahead of her, searching out whatever they were looking for. Whoever, really. And then half the roof crashes down in-between them, he almost get flattened into the ground he's standing on, and when he has the frame of mind to look up, she's nowhere in sight.

They shouldn't have come in here. Of course, he readily agreed, so it's his fault too.

He's officially blaming Ari until further notice, though.

The two of them had been out all day looking for her. By extension Ghost too, of course, but he was more concerned about his sister getting up to something she shouldn't be. That's what she always did. Now she had help, and that was the worst part of all. Ghost didn't look like he was a giant risk-taker, but if the situation was reversed and it was Ari on top of that mountain, he'd do the exact same thing.

Ari didn't have to go with him, though. So he's still blaming her.

It hadn't been long ago when they found this building. It looked dangerous, and Ari liked danger. Never risked herself unless she had to, but she was naturally curious. Jasper spent the entire day trying to convince himself they hadn't gone up the mountain, and this was one of the only places they hadn't checked. The giant twoleg monster didn't do wonders to ease his concerns about going near it, but they had to at least check.

Then Nyla heard something.

Something, more specifically voices. Not Ari, though, not even Ghost. They were distinctly younger, more panicked. One older voice, too, gruffer but not any less worried. Pieces of the roof had started raining down, and there was no sign of anyone coming out of the building, and so his heart won over. His head was telling him he was an idiot, that he should just stay outside and let it go.

So he jumped through the window, and Nyla didn't hesitate to follow even though he told her she didn't have to.

That was the issue with the two of them. If it was them or someone else, they'd always pick someone else.

They didn't find who was in here before the roof collapsed entirely, though. Which brings him back to problem number one.

Where in the world is Nyla?

He doesn't let himself think irrationally, doesn't let him think she's hurt. Or worse. If he's fine, then she is too. She wasn't too far off. He hears a voice again, just as the last pieces of the roof come tumbling down. Something distinctly terrified, but it's not far off either.

"Jasper!"

That's not Nyla.

He's really going to kill his sister.

He spins around and Ari is perched on a stack of wood that's wobbling precariously, although she doesn't look the least bit concerned. Not that she ever does, really, but the situation should be enough to warrant just a little bit.

"I spent the whole day attempting to track you down and then you just show up, are you serious?" He accuses. "And now of all times?"

"Maybe if you hadn't jumped into a collapsing building I wouldn't have had to!" she hisses, running lightly down the pile until she's standing by his side. "We're siblings, we both make equally terrible decisions."

"Where's Ghost?"

Ari pauses, looking around quizzically, and then stares back the way she came from for a heartbeat too long. Finally, she turn back to him and shrugs.

"Lost him. My bad."

"How do you _lose_ someone?" He asks, ignoring the fact that he also kind of lost Nyla. Ari doesn't have to know that. That's just more ammunition for her to use against him later, and he really doesn't need that. At least not right now.

"He was right behind me! Why are we even in here?"

"We heard someone, they might be in trouble." Definitely in trouble, now.

"Where's Nyla?"

"Here!"

Jasper breaths out a sigh of relief as Nyla appears, scrambling through a pile of debris. One of her shoulders is bleeding but she seems to be walking just fine, panting with exertion. She smiles widely when she sees Ari, rushing forward. For a moment, it's the three of them, and that's easy, familiar. It's always been the three of them, since they were young. Now they have more to worry about than just themselves, though.

"Whoever's in here, I heard them again. They're that way," Nyla says, gesturing to their left. He can barely see that, the debris is so thick. At least one of them, though, if there's a group of them, is still alive. Still worth going after.

"I'm gonna go back and look for that idiot before he gets himself killed," Ari says. "You guys continue with whatever you were doing. I'll be back. Hopefully with said idiot."

It's not hard to hear the concern in her voice, even though she usually hides it better than anyone else. If her and Ghost really did make it all the way up that mountain and back, then the fact that she only just lost him here is nearly incredible. She leaves just as fast as she appeared, tunneling her way back through the wreckage. She can handle herself. He lets Nyla lead him deeper into the mess around them, wincing as splinters dig into his paws. The gloom is thickening the further in they go, the dust stinging his eyes. Nyla's tail brushing against his shoulder is practically the only thing stopping him from stumbling into a piece of wood and impaling himself on it.

There's a sudden yelp from ahead and Nyla stumbles back, nearly knocking him into oblivion.

"It's okay, it's okay! We're not going to hurt you!"

He leans around her to get a better look. There's a tortoiseshell she-cat crouched five feet in front of them. She's small, really small, and no older than eight or nine moons if had to guess, but her amber eyes are narrowed into something fierce and determined. She blinks at Nyla, eyes wide, and then notices him. It must occur to her that she has no chance of taking on them both, and her ears flatten.

"Tawny, don't."

Jasper flinches at the sudden voice, just now noticing the blue-gray tom crouched in the shadows. He didn't even see him, and he sees practically everything. He's less defensive, less terrified. Bigger, but not by much.

"What are you two doing in here?" Nyla asks softly, stepping forward hesitantly. The tortoiseshell she-cat - Tawny - doesn't make a move this time, slinking back towards the gray tom. They look even younger plastered together.

"We were just exploring; we didn't think anything bad happen!" Tawny says nervously. Jasper watches as her eyes flit to the side, staring into the darkness to their right. He shoves past Nyla in that direction and he watches as Tawny's eyes widen in alarm, scuttling forward before he can make it there.

"Scotch told us to stay put while he went hunting, and now Cricket's hurt and he's going to _kill us_ , we're in so much trouble." She looks up at him, eyes pleading, like he can solve all of her problems. Problems that he really, really doesn't understand. Neither of them are hurt, at least not that he can see. There are a pair of pale, unfamiliar green eyes blinking at him from behind where Tawny has run to, though. The first gray tom doesn't respond to the Cricket thing, which means there's _another one_.

He's not used to kids.

All it takes is one big step to get around Tawny, who lets him this time. He catches sight of the third cat, same age as the other two. He's lying on the ground, one of his hind legs mangled and pinned beneath a beam of wood. If he thought Tawny was small, then this new one takes the cake. He tries to slide away, breaking off in a choked-off, terrified whimper when the beam of wood pins him to the floor again.

"Stop moving, you're gonna make it worse," Jasper insists. This must be Cricket, then, who's staring back up at him like he'd rather run in the opposite direction.

Nyla is next to Tawny, now, tail curled around her, so he gestures to the other tom. "You. You're helping me. What's your name?"

"Storm," is all he says, calm and stoic as ever, but he moves forward to help.

"Okay, get on the other side of that beam there. When I move it you're going to drag him out." Jasper is pointedly ignoring the fact that he doesn't know what he's going to do with Cricket once they get him out, he doesn't know how to heal others. He's never had to. But the kid looks terrified, and he really doesn't have a choice here, does he?

He shoves hard at the beam, too heavy for probably anyone else to move, and Cricket lets out a pained shriek as it slides off him, landing with a thud on the ground. Storm grabs his scruff and drags him a foot away, trying to hold him as gently as he can.

"Need some help down there?" Ari's voice calls, and he peers up to see her perched on yet another thing she shouldn't be standing on. She's got Ghost by her side, this time, and he's covered in a layer of dust so thick he's barely distinguishable. His pelt is flecked with blood, a trickle of it between his eyes. And to think Jasper thought he looked bad before.

Ari and Ghost descend the pile, and for a moment they all stare at each other. Tawny stands a bit straighter, eyes narrowing, like she's trying to be defiant now that she knows her and her siblings are outnumbered. They have to be siblings. Her and Storm have the same eyes, and he and Cricket practically look like twins, blue-gray pelts blending into one.

"Now this is a mess," Ari announces. "And I thought this one getting attacked by a roof was our biggest problem."

"Does that mean I lost?" Ghost asks quietly. Judging by the state he's in, he definitely lost, and no one bothers saying it out-loud.

"Okay, let's get out of here. We can look at your leg once we're safe."

Tawny balks at Nyla's words, stepping neatly away from her side. "We can't go anywhere, we need to go home, Scotch said—"

"I'm just gonna take a stab in the dark here and say neither of you can carry him back to wherever home is. Also I don't know who Scotch is. So you're coming with us," Ari says, voice giving them no excuses. Storm had already looked resigned to needing their help anyway.

"I'll take him," Ghost says, and Jasper cuts him off before he can try it.

"You said it yourself, you just lost a fight to a roof. I'll do it. Start getting me a path out of here."

Storm very carefully lowers his brother to the ground and Jasper steps in, fastening his teeth in his scruff. Cricket barely weighs anything at all, swaying from his jaws like he's a newborn kit. He still hasn't spoken a word, and if Jasper didn't know better he'd think the kid was mute. It looks like, for now at least, the terror and pain he's in has stolen his voice.

Ari clears a path for them just ahead. Nyla curls a tail around Tawny again, gently tugging her forward, and Ghost gestures for Storm to head through next.

"Please tell me you can fix this," Jasper mumbles around a mouthful of fur. Ghost stares at Cricket's bloody leg. It's not broken, but it certainly doesn't look great. Ghost considers that, looks back up at Cricket then at him in turn.

"Yeah, I can," he says confidently, but Jasper sees the waver in his eyes, and it's not because he just got flattened by a roof.

It's because he doesn't know if he's telling the truth.

* * *

 **Tawny - Safe Place.**

* * *

Everything's quieted down.

She's never been to this side of twoleg place before. It's quiet, not in the best condition, but it's nice to just lay down. Cricket's finally stopped shaking, laying down next to her, his head on his paws. His leg is wrapped in a thick layer of cobwebs, herbs chewed and mashed up underneath. It still looks kinda gross, if she's being honest with herself, but at least he seems to have gotten over the shock.

He's still not talking, though. Not that she's surprised.

They've tucked themselves away behind some crates and the other four are crouched on top of them, talking in hushed voices. Storm is watching them, eyes calm.

"Do you think Scotch will be able to find us?" She asks quietly, and Storm shrugs.

"If he doesn't I'll go out looking for him tomorrow."

If anyone would be able to sneak away for a bit, it would be him. Scotch isn't their father, but he might as well be. Sure, he's old and he's grumpy but he practically raised them since birth. He's also probably sick with worry, not that he'd ever admit that to their faces.

She feels very small, sitting here. Smaller than normal, and she hates it.

Time to do something about it.

Tawny rises to her feet, leaving behind Cricket, who's close to dozing off, and Storm, who doesn't say anything to keep her there. She stops at the foot of the crate they're sitting on, staring up. The conversation stops as soon as she appears, but Nyla smiles and gestures beside her, so Tawny jumps up next to them. They don't appear like they're posing any danger, but she wouldn't let herself be scared anyway. That's her job.

As soon as she settles by Nyla's side they resume their conversation. The blood has been washed from Ghost's pelt, but he still looks exhausted. They all do. She doesn't really understand any of what they're saying, either, and she hates not knowing.

"What's a Clan?"

They all pause, turning towards her.

"Kinda hard to explain to someone who's never even heard of them before," Ghost says simply. "There's a lot more going on than you know."

"Well, I'm not _stupid_. I'm sure I could get it," she insists, and Ari laughs.

"It's just ... groups of cats that live together. And follow a code. They have their own territory, and they have different roles. Leaders, deputies, warriors, apprentices. But ten moons ago, before you were even born, I guess, two of them got destroyed. I was from one of them."

"Are you the only one?"

He looks surprised at the question, but after sharing a look with Ari, he shakes his head.

"So, your nephew is still alive. Frozenkit, or whatever he still is. And if he was that young when it happened, chances are there are other survivors too," Jasper confirms, and they all seem to believe it.

"Frozenkit's a weird name," is all she says. It's not offensive, it just is.

"Everyone in the Clan has a specific name. Something to describe them. It changes as you fit into a new role," Ghost explains. Despite his exhausted state, he still looks awfully patient. Like he'd rather be asleep, but still willing to explain nonetheless.

"So what would I be?"

"Well, you're about the age of an apprentice. So Tawnypaw. And then you would get a full warrior name when you've completed your training."

"Like what?"

"Iceheart," Ari hums thoughtfully. "That's what he called you. I forgot about it, until know."

"Yeah. And if I had become leader I would've been Icestar."

To Tawny, that seems like too many names to remember. The possibility of four names in a lifetime doesn't even make sense to her. It seems like an awful lot to remember. She's got a pretty good memory, though. She could do it. The idea is certainly intriguing. She can sense Storm's eyes on her from the ground below, watching carefully.

"So you learn to fight and hunt and all that?" She asks. She knows how to hunt. The basic stuff, at least. She's certainly clawed a few others in her day too, but never too seriously. Scotch always said she'd be a good fighter, if she had the right teacher.

"You have a mentor that would teach you all of those things, and the whole Clan to help."

"That'd be _sweet_. Scotch is too old to teach me, he—"

"Who is Scotch, by the way? Or where is he?" Jasper says, and she nearly jumps right off the crate. She forgot he was there. Storm already does that enough to her, sneaks up behind her and then says something directly into her ear. She doesn't need it happening twice as much.

" _Yeah, where is he_?"

Tawny does yelp at that, the unfamiliar yet completely familiar voice coming from the doorway. She scrambles down off the crate and slams into the floor. Scotch is standing in the doorway, staring at her. She can't really tell if he looks annoyed or relieved, but it's a sight to see nonetheless. The annoyance starts to form over his features when he catches sight of how many others are here, though. She nearly slams into him, pressing herself against his ginger and white patched pelt.

"An hour. I can't go anywhere for an _hour_ without the three of you running off."

"Sorry," she mumbles. "But at least we're alright!"

"Yeah. Who are all your new friends?"

"That's Ghost! He's from the Clans! Have you ever heard of them? You're practically ancient, I would hope so. And those are his friends, I don't know if they're my friends yet, but that's Ari and her brother Jasper and Nyla."

"Every time I ask a question I regret it immediately," Scotch sighs, but he flicks his tail over her ear. "Good to know. Get your brothers. We're going."

It's that moment when Cricket takes his chances and appears, hobbling on three legs and leaning heavily against Storm's shoulder. Scotch sighs again.

"An hour, kid. A single _hour_."

"I'm sorry!" She blurts out. "But they helped us, and Cricket's okay, Ghost said he would be okay!"

"He will be okay. He just needs to stay put," Ghost adds. "Unless you plan on carrying him for the next few weeks, he's not going anywhere."

There's a moment where Tawny worries that Scotch is just going to take them all and leave anyway. None of them know a thing about healing. Ghost doesn't really, either, but he at least has a vague idea. She's not interested in her brother getting any worse than he already is.

"I'm okay, Scotch." Cricket chooses that moment to interject, his voice so soft they almost don't hear it. Everyone turns to him and his ears flatten once again, clearly uncomfortable under the weight of so many stares, but he doesn't move.

"You three are never leaving my sight again," is all Scotch says, but it's clear that's him admitting defeat. He won't admit it in any other way. That's something she knows she got from him.

"So," Nyla says. "I guess we should talk about the fact that we do need to leave, though."

"You just said he needs to not move and now you want to leave. This is why I don't talk to anyone," Scotch says. "I'm too old for this."

"You don't get what's going on," Ari says. "And we can explain, if you'll hear us out, but—"

"You _really_ don't get what's going on," Jasper insists, and turns to Ghost. "I've never seen your nephew in my life. If he's coming down with that nasty lot from the mountain then they're looking for someone. Someone they know he'll recognize. They're gonna patrol every inch of this place. Not to mention that this building could get plowed down just like that other one, if we're not careful."

"So where are we going?" Ghost asks. "You know this place better than I do."

Everyone sinks into silence, clearly not knowing exactly where they're supposed to go either. There isn't much around here besides twoleg place and the surrounding forest. The lake stretches far into the distance, but there's not much in that direction either. The city is all the way at the bottom of the entire mountain range, and Tawny's not sure she's exactly ready to go that far yet.

"I've got an idea," Storm says, his voice almost as quiet as Cricket's. "But Scotch isn't going to like it."

"Do I ever?" Scotch mutters, and Tawny watches as Ari smiles in amusement. She can't help but mimic it.

Jasper turns to him. "Alright kid. What've you got?"

* * *

Kudos to Wolfy for reminding me to update.


	9. I'm With You

Chapter Seven.

* * *

 **Ghost - Safe Place.**

* * *

The rain won't stop coming.

It started raining before the sun set, sometime between him falling asleep and waking up to Tawny attempting to pester him once again. She keeps asking questions, no matter how much Scotch tries to make her stop, or sleep, or do anything productive.

He can recognize the signs of pent-up energy when he sees it. Scotch probably doesn't let her do anything ever, and that's why she seem so bad now. Almost all apprentices have this kind of energy, until it's funneled into the right direction. Or at least they did. If any of them have survived, it's likely that it's all been driven out by now.

Ghost rises to his feet, accepting that between the talking he can hear and the rain pounding against the roof he's not going to sleep any time soon. There's a small pile of prey sitting by the door, a few sparrows and a mouse or two. As he watches Jasper grabs one of the mice and drops it at Cricket's feet, who looks like he's doing his best to sink in the floor instead of be interacted with.

Scotch seems to be in the middle of an attempt at glaring at everything in the room, Tawny laying by his side, tucking into a sparrow of her own.

Jasper returns to the prey just as Ghost gets there. He shoves something towards him and Ghost takes it without comment. All they've been doing is feeding him and expecting nothing in return, it seems.

"Nyla and I took Storm out with us when we went hunting. He's actually pretty good. We tried to make Scotch come but he didn't want to leave the other two with you and Ari, even though you were both _sleeping_." Jasper doesn't sound exasperated, even though most others would expect him to be. Everyone looks well-fed and there's still prey to spare.

"Where _is_ Storm? And Nyla and Ari?"

"Storm's asleep, now. Ari's up on the roof and Nyla's making sure she doesn't slip and fall off."

"It's raining."

"Hadn't noticed," Jasper deadpans. "She wanted to keep a watch. Something about that group wandering around. Don't think she's seen them yet."

He nods appreciatively. It's not like he wouldn't stay up on the roof if they were in danger, he would, but the idea doesn't necessarily appeal to him. Not with how the thunder's practically shaking the foundation of the building.

"You still good to leave in the morning?" Jasper asks. He nods.

It's happening, at daybreak. They're getting out of here. Storm called it _The Skulk_ , not that that helped him any, but the rest of them seem to know what exactly that is and how to get there. As far as he was told it's abandoned, small section of twoleg place a ways into the forest. A nasty place, Nyla had said. Not a place where many outsiders head, unless they're looking for trouble. The cats who grow up there aren't friendly, and the ones who choose to reside there even less so.

It's also the last place that group would think to look for them, so he's all for it. It's just the question of getting there. Nyla insists it's not all that far, maybe a day if they travel fast, but someone's going to carry Cricket the whole way there and make sure Tawny doesn't run away and instigate something. Scotch doesn't seem to have any desire to go with them, something about how he's been there before and it's not exactly pleasant, but he'll go. Because of the kids, not anyone else.

"Not like we have a choice," Ghost says in lieu of answering, and Jasper shrugs.

"Might as well eat something and then try to keep sleeping. Gonna be a long walk tomorrow." He sets off to his own corner after that, a sparrow in his jaws, but Tawny bounces up to him before he can even settle down. Tawny says something, and Jasper shakes his head, but there's a bemused smile on his face. It seems he's gotten used to them already.

Ghost takes the remaining mouse and is about to return to his own spot when Ari appears out of seemingly nowhere, bounding down a series of crates until she hits the floor, Nyla on her tail. They're both soaked to the bone, looking more like drowned rats than cats, but it's the panic in Ari's eyes that concerns him.

"We just saw them. All six of them. They're headed this way. I don't know if they're just still searching, or if they're looking for shelter, but—"

"Hiding," Jasper interrupts. "Hiding sounds great."

"What? There's only six of them!" Tawny says incredulously. "There's eight of us! We could totally take them."

"Your brother is injured and couldn't fight off a wasp even if he wasn't," Scotch interrupts. "And you are not fighting anything. _You_ are hiding. _We all are_."

It's one of the first sensible things that Scotch has said since Ghost has met him, and he agrees with it whole-heartedly. He bounds forward, prey forgotten, and scoops Cricket off the floor before he can even make a noise. Jasper was right, the kid really isn't heavy at all, and just hangs there, eyes wide and terrified as he stares at the door like he's expecting them to burst in any second now.

Ghost places him as gently as he can behind a crate at the back of the building just as Tawny squeezes in beside him.

"Stay put until we tell you to move," he tells her, and she nods, seemingly obedient for once. She presses her nose to Cricket's side, trying to comfort him, but he's still shaking. Nyla appears, and then Jasper, and he catches sight of Ari crouching behind a crate one over, just barely peeking around the corner towards the door. Scotch bundles Storm in and then they're all pressed together in the darkness, completely helpless but to just wait.

"The prey," Nyla whispers. "We just left it there, they're going to see it."

It takes Ghost a second to remember the fact that there's a pile of prey just sitting by the half-open door, waiting to be stumbled upon.

Before he can think of anything rational, Storm takes off. Scotch just barely misses him, landing on the spot he had been standing a second too late like he was planning on flattening him to the floor to stop him. Storm streaks across the room, pelt so dark he's almost a blur, and practically skids into the pile of prey, scattering it into the corner of the room. He grabs one last piece and flings it away. It might not be enough to erase the smell, but with the rain pounding just outside it must be enough.

A shadow falls across the door, and he shakes his head at Storm, who freezes. He presses himself back into the shadows, going completely still, and Ghost holds his breath. Prays to whoever's listening. Jaytalon's not here right now, and StarClan isn't going to save them from this.

Another shadow appears, and then disappears in a matter of seconds. They're moving. He waits for another, and no one appears.

"They're still looking," Nyla says quietly, her soaked fur pressed against his side, and he lets out an exhale. They're not stopping, even for the rain, and they clearly don't think anyone would be stupid enough to be lying in wait this close.

Ari is the first one to move to the door, standing between Storm and the entrance like she's certain they're going to come back. He pads carefully to her side, leaving the rest of the group still in hiding.

"They just went down the alleyway to the right," Ari hums under her breath. "Don't think they're coming back."

His head has already made the dumbest decision he's possibly ever made, and he steps outside into the rain. Ari makes a surprised noise behind him, but he stops her.

"You don't need to give your brother two heart attacks in one day. Stay here. You'll defend the rest of the group if they do come back. I won't be gone long."

"And what if you are?" She asks apprehensively. He wasn't wrong. She'll defend them better than anyone else here possibly can, and he trusts that. But he's dumb, and he's not done making irrational decisions quite yet. What he does know is he needs to stop involving her, and all of them, in said decisions.

"Head to The Skulk anyway. If they find you and they find out you've been helping me, it won't end well."

"Yeah right. If you don't come back we're coming after you."

He lets out a low, bitter laugh. The noise surprises him. "Don't bother. There won't be anything left of me to come for."

* * *

It's freezing.

The snow is almost all melted, but the rain isn't much better, and it's clinging to his thick fur like it doesn't plan on letting go. He crosses over to the alleyway Ari pointed out, wondering if the others are contemplating how crazy he is at this very moment. Probably. He _is_ crazy, or at least borderline.

He wasn't done talking with Frozenkit last night. He hardly talked at all, still with shock and disbelief. His nephew ran before he could say anything of importance, and he's not leaving it like that.

They alleyway is empty as he steps into it. The towering walls provide some shelter from the rain, but not much. The group must be moving faster than he thought, because there's no sign of them. He's half-tempted to crawl under a dumpster for a few seconds, just to give himself a break from the rain, when someone jumps down from the roof behind him, so close he nearly jumps out of his fur.

"You really have a death wish, don't you?"

Frozenkit. _Again_.

"And you have a thing for appearing out of nowhere. Don't the rest of them ever get suspicious that you keep running off?"

Frozenkit — whoever, blinks in surprise, and then smiles grimly. "Don't think they care about me much. There's not a lot of cats around that still do. The four of them, they're messengers. I don't know if they care about anyone other than themselves. Don't even get me started on Azra."

"Frozenkit—"

"Ripper. Not Frozenkit. Tempest's idea. She's got a flair for the dramatics. But you probably knew that."

Hearing the name _Ripper_ doesn't make him feel any better about the situation. Neither does hearing Tempest. It brings up all of those things he'd rather forget but can't because his brain won't let him.

"So she's still alive."

"Did you think she wouldn't be? It's not that easy," Ripper laughs. "You want her dead, you're gonna have to kill all of MountainClan to get her."

"MountainClan?" He asks, his head reeling. It hasn't even been that long, and nothing makes sense.

"You've missed a lot, Iceheart. Or should I say _Icestar_ ," is all his nephew says, ignoring his question. "Makes sense you've got a death wish. You've got a lot of lives to waste, don't you?"

This cat, the one named Ripper who's speaking to him right now, is completely different from the Frozenkit he talked to on the mountain. The one who told him to hide, to run before he got caught. Maybe he was too shocked to really process it too.

"I never got the lives," he tells him. "I got ripped out of the dream before I could. The Clan was more important."

Ripper looks surprised for a moment, but then ducks his head, and he's _laughing_. "And yet it still fell, and we got taken. No lives for you, none for us!"

Ghost doesn't know how to respond to that. Doesn't know how to respond to any of this. Ripper's angry, and he has every right to be, but he didn't expect it to sting this bad. If he ever found someone, he expected it to be joyous. To have someone back in his life. This couldn't be further.

"Who's still alive?" He forces out, trying to ignore everything else going on. "You can't be the only one."

"Do you want the full list, or just the ones that are still prisoners?"

Ghost waits, and says nothing. If Ripper defected to Tempest's side, then others did too. It's only logical.

"Besides me, Badgerfang. Reedblaze and Fawnstep of SlopeClan. All with different names, of course. I'm not the only one who got that treatment. Goldenleaf, Starlingpaw and Flintpaw are still alive. Couldn't tell you for how much longer. Minnowstream gave birth to her kit, Shiera, before she died, too."

It's seven names. Seven names, and Ghost waits for him to continue. Waits for him to say anything else. But he doesn't, and then Ghost realizes that's the list in it's entirety. Seven names. Eight, including Ripper. The only ones who are still alive up there.

"That can't be right—"

"Well you wouldn't know, would you?" Ripper asks. "You haven't seen any of it first-hand. You've been too busy off on your own for the past ten moons to save us. Not everybody's up there. Some escaped, like you. Good luck finding them. We haven't had any so far, doubt you will."

There's others. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to calm down. Just breathe. He can do this, he can process it.

"Come with us," he tries weakly, already knowing that it won't work. "You don't have to side with Tempest. None of this has to happen."

"I didn't side with her willingly. I only did that after I watched my mother and sister die when we tried to escape. Goldenleaf pushed me to their side because she was sick and tired of watching us all die. We knew there was no one coming to save us."

"I tried—"

"Not hard enough, clearly. It's not that simple. I have a mate and kits, you know. Nothing's ever this simple. I can't run. If I run, they'll kill me. They'll kill all of us. I'm not risking that."

His brain chooses to ignore mate and kits, because he can't quite figure out how to wrap his brain around that yet. "I won't let them hurt you."

"You already did," Ripper laughs, a vicious sound. "You haven't realized that. A lot of good that prophecy did us, right?"

"I didn't think you knew about that," he whispers weakly. The fight's practically drained out of him. Ripper's right. It's his fault they're all dead, and he couldn't find them to save them anyway. He did try, but not hard enough. He spent so long doing it that he gave up. Now Ripper's standing here in front of him, blaming him for it all, and he can't find himself to argue.

He's right. He's never going to be wrong.

"I didn't want to side with her, you know," Ripper says. "I didn't have a choice. Not all of us can be a part of a prophecy, okay, some of us have to make mistakes! You think I like who I am? I have a mate, and kits, and they're going to be raised into this. I never wanted any of this. Blossomcreek died a few days ago, and I did _nothing_. There's hardly any of us left."

"There doesn't have to be," Ghost says, and for the first time he thinks of Ari saying it's not impossible. A new Clan. Of Tawny's eagerness to learn. Of Jasper and Nyla, and how they don't seem opposed to it. "We can fix this. _I'll fix this_."

Ripper stares at him a moment, eyes completely hollow. He remembers, all those moons ago, when he had first seen Frozenkit's eyes. Yellow and blue. Wrensong had laughed, saying that it just made him unique, and Jaytalon had smiled, looking so impossibly happy it made his chest ache.

"You're still trying to be Icestar. And you're not. Clan or no Clan, this isn't something that can just be patched up and put back together. I'm not running from what I am now, from what I've done. Maybe you should try it."

He flinches at the words, but doesn't move. Doesn't move as Ripper walks away, leaves _again_. Headed after the group from _MountainClan_ , the Clan that Tempest created, like she was laughing in his face that she stole his Clan and made her own. Ghost just stands there, completely numb, and stares at the spot where his nephew had been standing.

Ghost doesn't know how long he stands there, but he goes back eventually. The rain has almost tapered off into a stop by the time he reaches the door, paws dragging across the soaked pavement. Nyla springs to her feet, clearly waiting for him to come back, and he can't make himself say anything.

They all try to talk to him. Ask him what happened.

All he does is go back to his corner, lay down, and try to erase everything that just happened.

He can't, though.

And he doesn't sleep for the rest of the night.

* * *

The thing is, he wishes he could say it got better the next day.

They left at daybreak, like they planned. Started heading in the same direction Nyla took him that first day, when they went to find Ari and Jasper, but further. Deeper into the woods. Water drips off the branches high below and splatter on his shoulders. Or rather Cricket's, but he's not complaining.

He took him off Jasper's back fifteen minutes ago. Jasper had been carrying him for the past three hours and deserved a break, but now Cricket is plastered against his back, still not talking, and he can feel his eyes practically staring at the back of his head.

Ari and Jasper are up together at the front of the group, now, shoulders brushing together every time they take a step forward. Tawny is darting back and forth across the path, examining things that she can reach without Scotch yelling at her for straying too far. Storm is staring around curiously, eyes a little wide, but almost as quiet as his brother. By the looks of it, these three have never spent much time away from twoleg place. Or any, really.

He tells Nyla what happened last night, not long after they set out. She's still padding by his side, interjecting every few minutes with some wise piece of information or other. It is making him feel a bit better, if he's being honest. After the initial panic of last night, they've all calmed down. Relaxed a bit. Even Scotch seems to be in a better mood, although he's still not happy about where they're going.

"He's just angry," Nyla says. "I mean, it has to be a bit of a shock to him. Ten moons is a _long_ time. For you to just come back like this, it probably freaked him out as much as it did you."

"I just wish he'd hear me out," he sighs. "And for all I know, I'll never see him again. Something could happen to him and I'd never know."

"Don't say that," she insists. "He's survived this long. He knows you're alive. He has a mate and kits. Things to fight for. He's not going anywhere."

He certainly seems strong enough to survive. More like a warrior than the kit he last saw. Old enough to be one, definitely. It's still boggling his mind a bit that Ripper went from being a kit to having some of his own in the time he left him.

"He's young, and he's scared," Ghost says, and Nyla hums, bumping her shoulder against his, careful to avoid nudging Cricket off.

"Yeah, he is. Maybe he'll come around. We'll find him again, and you can talk. Like actual adults, instead of just arguing in the rain."

Cricket lets out the smallest of amused noises from his back. He feels the rush of air against his fur, and twists to look at him over his shoulder.

"You got something to say up there? Some more input would be nice. Nyla can't give me advice forever."

Cricket doesn't say anything but smiles, his chin resting between Ghost's shoulders.

"Let me know if your leg's bothering you, or if you need something. We'll stop." Cricket nods, and Ghost considers that a resounding success considering he hasn't gotten the kid to have a conversation with him yet. It's kind of hard to avoid having one when he's sitting on his back. At least he doesn't look so terrified anymore, resounding himself to being carried around by a bunch of strangers.

"How long do you think it'll take us to get there?"

"Hopefully by nightfall. The storm didn't do as much damage as I thought. Probably not a good idea to be wandering around that place in the dark, though. Might just have to wait at the edge until morning."

"What's it like?" Cricket asks out of the blue, in the smallest voice Ghost thinks he's ever heard. Nyla smiles, looking pleased with the development.

"I've only ever been to the edge myself. There's lots of abandoned twoleg nests. All of the thunderpaths are cracked and broken, but there are no monsters there anyway. Everything's overgrown. There used to be more cats living there, when I was younger, but not so much anymore. Most cats don't willingly choose to live in a place like that."

"What about those who do?" He asks himself, genuinely curious.

"Never known anyone from there. Only heard stories. No one nice ever comes out of there, from what I've heard. They're all hostile and mistrustful. Kinda have to be, growing up surrounded by others who are the same." Cricket looks nervous at that, and Ghost feels him tense against his back, but Nyla smiles again, easy and reassuring. He finds it's easy to smile back, despite everything.

"Don't worry. All we have to do is find a place to lie low. It'll be easy," she reassures him, and she even goes so far as to run her tail long his back. It's the first time that someone's touched Cricket other than picking him up or just moving him around, and he doesn't flinch at it.

"Besides," Ghost adds. "Your sister will protect you if anything bad happens."

"Yeah, I will!" Tawny pipes up, skidding to a halt and turning around to meet them. "Ari said she'd teach me how to fight!"

He catches sight of Ari turning around, eyes bordering on incredulous. _No I didn't_ , she mouths at him, a little helplessly, and he snorts.

"She can be my mentor, right?" Tawny asks. "That's what you said, if I was Tawnypaw I'd get a mentor."

It wasn't that long ago, but he told Ari it wasn't that simple. But the thing is, yesterday he'd told Ripper that he would fix it. And he wants to, even if it's impossible. Maybe it is.

"You'll have to ask her," he says simply, and Tawny bounces around for a moment before hurtling back towards Ari and Jasper at the front of the group. He can't hear what goes on, but he's assuming Tawny is getting a head-start on asking.

"You were serious?" Nyla asks quietly. "You really wanna do this?"

"Yeah," he says quietly. "I think I do."

Nyla falls silent, but he watches her, sees the wheels turning in her head. Finally, she looks back, and when she does she's smiling again.

"Good. 'Cause I'm with you all the way."

* * *

Something I've discovered: I care less and less about editing these the more I post.


	10. No Safe Havens

Chapter Eight.

* * *

 **Cricket - Edge of The Skulk.**

* * *

They do indeed get to the edge of The Skulk at nightfall.

He was already imagining it to be pretty creepy, so seeing it at night does wonders to his head. It looks like something out of his worst nightmares, something he would dredge up in his mind when he was envisioning _places he most definitely didn't want to die in, thank you very much_.

He's still on Ghost's back. They took a few breaks, to rest and eat and almost every time they came across a fast flowing stream for a drink. That usually involved him sliding awkwardly to the ground, usually leaning against someone, and then quite nearly flopping to the ground when he realized he had almost no feeling in his legs from sitting for so long.

Ghost doesn't seem to mind carrying him, though. Nyla kept talking to him, and then Storm eventually, when he got bored of looking around.

The eight of them have been standing at the edge for about fifteen minutes. There aren't many trees here, not too much thick underbrush, so of course that's when it starts pouring again. His fur is plastered against his spine almost instantly and he shivers, trying to hold onto Ghost a little bit tighter against the slick of rain.

"You good up there?" Ghost asks, twisting around to look at him for the twentieth time. He nods, his teeth almost chattering.

"Guess we're going looking for shelter," he continues.

"Great," Ari says flatly, looking out into the darkness. The abandoned twoleg nests look ominous in the dark, towering into the night sky. The thunderpaths are indeed cracked just like Nyla said they were, grass and ivy creeping across their edges.

It doesn't feel safe, and it definitely doesn't look safe. But unless they want to freeze to death, they don't really have a choice.

Jasper is the first to step to the edge of the thunderpath, glancing around. Scotch steps up beside him, sniffing at the cracked pavement with a look of distaste.

"Who's idea was this again?" Scotch asks, and turns to fix Storm with a flat glare. It'd be intimidating if Scotch hadn't been caring for them since they were practically born. They've long since gotten used to his scathing looks and flat remarks, because he's always kidding. It doesn't really looking like he's kidding now, though. No one looks all that impressed with the current situation.

"So, where are we going?" Tawny finally asks, noting the reluctance everyone seems to be expressing. They all turn to him, and he's confused and worried for a long moment, until he realizes they're all staring at Ghost. Ghost himself tenses, not seeming to get it either, but Cricket gets it. It's the unspoken words of _you're the leader, tell us where to go_ that are echoing in his head. Because that's what Ghost is.

"You know, usually I'd have an idea but I also haven't been here before," Ghost states. He's clearly uncomfortable with the idea that he should be knowing what to do when he is in fact the opposite. How any of them are supposed to have any clue on what to do, Cricket has no idea.

"I nominate that one," Ari says, nodding towards a broken twoleg nest a little ways down the road. There are a few closer, but they look to be in significantly worse shape. There's a few the opposite way too, but the trees have started to overtake the road that way, and it looks like they'd get swallowed alive by some sort of monstrous forest monster if they went that way. Which is irrational, but Cricket's always been irrational.

No one argues, and so they start walking.

"Can you keep an eye out for me, Cricket?" Ghost mutters under his breath. "You probably have a better view than I do."

He does indeed, and lifts his head off of Ghost's shoulder a bit more so he can look around. There are sharp, stinging droplets of rain pelting him in the eyes and he blinks frantically, looking around. The treeline is to their left, The Skulk stretching away into the distance behind them, in front of them, and all the way to the right. Despite the trees being right there, it still feels too much like they're trapped.

He wants to close his eyes every time he so much as sees the faintest flicker out of the corner of his eye. There are tree branches whipping every way, the tall grass reaching up and brushing against his side every so often. Lightning illuminates the sky in the distance for a second, and he blinks again, and then yelps.

The noise startles Ghost so much that he almost stumbles off the thunderpath. Cricket keeps his head turned backwards, staring off in one specific direction. He just saw _eyes_. Very alive, very wide, and staring right at them from the other side of the thunderpath. That can't be good, right? Someone staring at them can't be good.

Everyone's already turned around to stare at him, but it's Jasper who notices the other cat first, attention snapping to whoever it is.

From that moment on, it's practically a staredown, who will back down first. Cricket can't make out much, just that whoever it is is quite possibly the biggest cat he's ever seen in his life, broad-shouldered and having a terrific time just hulking in the darkness like some kind of demon.

"We're not here to disturb anyone!" Ghost shouts, and this time it's Cricket's turn to jump. Ghost pads forward a solid ten feet, and to say he panics is a big understatement. Why does he have to be stuck on Ghost's back now of all times, when he's choosing to approach whoever they just found? All he wants to do is sink into the ground and _die_.

"We just want somewhere to stay for the night!" Ghost shouts, yet again, and Cricket really wishes he would stop. Eventually, whoever it was decides the staring is enough and approaches them. Slow enough that Ghost could probably run, but he's showing no signs of that.

It's a gray tom, fur thick and shaggy. He doesn't look anywhere close to as miserable as the rest of them do. His eyes are frighteningly yellow, the brightest point to look at in the darkness.

"Not every day I see eight strangers show up here like it's a family reunion," the stranger says, and he keeps staring.

"Like I said, we're not here to cause trouble. We just need a place to stay for a bit, and—"

"And I'd prefer if you lot just went away, so we all can't get what we want, can we?

Ghost's jaw snaps shut with an audible _clack_ , and finally the stranger's eyes land on him, staring curiously. He probably looks like a bird, clinging to Ghost's shoulders to root himself to the earth.

"You realize you got a parasite on your shoulders?"

Cricket would've had his fur fluffed up as far as he could if he wasn't drenched. Sure, he knows he's small, but he's not a parasite. Is he?

"I'm—"

"I really don't care who you are, or what you need," he interrupts again. "No offense. I just want you gone."

"Well, we're not leaving. There's eight of us, one of you. You wanna test your odds?" Ari says out of nowhere. She's standing just behind them, a challenging glint in her eyes.

"Do _you_?" He asks, and Cricket's convinced he's two seconds away from getting sandwiched in the middle of one awful fight when Jasper steps in-between them, so close to the other tom that he forces him back a few steps.

"We'll leave you alone if you tell us where to go."

There's a moment of tense silence, literal lightning crackling somewhere in the distance. Storm steps up just beside him, Tawny pressed against him, and he feels infinitely better. Scotch is ready to snatch him up and book it if they have to. He doesn't want to get taken away, doesn't want to flee and leave the others, but it's better than dying. A lot better.

"What's your name?" Tawny asks suddenly, and everyone freezes, waiting on the tom for a reaction. He stares at her blankly.

"Bastian. Now leave me alone."

Just like that, he leaves. Turns around and walks right off before anyone can get a word in otherwise.

"He doesn't seem very nice," Tawny says, watching his retreating form. "So where are we going?"

"Not that way."

Almost all of them say it at the exact same time, but Cricket's too busy staring after the tom. Bastian. Whoever he is, he really isn't very friendly. If everyone here is like that, Cricket doesn't think they're going to have the time of their lives.

Someone picks a building at random - he's still too busy making sure Bastian actually leaves to see where they start heading. The tom disappears somewhere between two broken nests, but he still can't pull his eyes away. They really, really don't need to get jumped from behind. Especially him. His leg is aching from being jostled around so much, and he doesn't want to make it worse.

Ari, it seems, has picked a nest that has a door half-broken off, practically hanging towards the ground. It's easy enough to squeeze around it, even for Ghost, who has to duck even more to avoid scraping the two of them against the wood. Inside it's musty, the smell of rotting wood invading his senses. The stairs are broken into pieces, not even managing to reach the top floor, and there's a hole in the far corner of the roof, but besides that it seems alright.

Certainly better than hanging around outside with Bastian.

Scotch plucks him carefully off of Ghost's back, setting him down on the floor just against the wall. Everyone else seems just as miserable as he is, the storm echoing around them, their paws weary. They're so soaked it's going to be hard to sleep, at least for now.

He lays his head on his paws with a quiet sigh, staring out towards the hole in the roof. Tawny curls up against his right side and Storm his left, and it almost feels normal. Scotch pokes his head out the door, clearly waiting to see if anyone else will appear. When no one does, he comes and sits in front of them.

"Real mess you three have gotten us into," he says, sounding exhausted. Scotch has said countless times to them, before all this, that he wanted to stop moving. Find somewhere to live, settle down. He's getting too old to be traipsing all over the mountains, especially following the three of them. Cricket feels bad, suddenly, about making him do all this.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, and Scotch rolls his eyes.

"You know, if I ever teach you one thing, it's going to be to not apologize so much. None of this is your fault."

If he hadn't gotten injured, they wouldn't be here. If he hadn't agreed to go with Tawny, Storm wouldn't have come with them, and then none of them would have gone. They either went all three of them or not at all. That's how it worked.

"Just let me sleep," Scotch sighs. "And wake me up if anything happens. I mean it."

For someone who's pretty thoroughly soaked, Scotch manages to fall asleep in mere minutes. He's shivering so badly he'll have to wait until he dries off for a bit to do the same. Storm is silent beside him, eyes narrowed to slits, and Tawny is curled into a tight ball, nose tucked under her tail like she's trying to stave off her own cold.

He'll accept that this isn't all his fault, soon. He just has to get over himself.

As long as nothing else happens, he can live with this.

* * *

 **Nyla - Broken Nest, The Skulk.**

* * *

"I'm going to kill Bastian."

Nyla wakes with a start, unsure if the spinning in her head is from lack of sleep or confusion. There's pale dawn light filtering through the broken windows, but considering how late they finally all dozed off, it's definitely the sleep thing. Sure, she's hungry too, but it's not the worst thing she's ever felt.

That's probably why she doesn't immediately recognize that the voice floating through the broken door is an unfamiliar one. By the time she does, nearly everyone else has risen to their feet in some capacity, besides Tawny, who looks like she's going to ignore it until it becomes a problem.

There's a dark brown tabby tom standing in the doorway, looking more annoyed than anything, but all Nyla can really focus on is how mangled he is. There are scars crossing every way over his pelt, more over the bridge of his nose and a few that just managed to miss his right eye. One of his ears is nearly shredded, the other one split into a deep v. But like she said, he doesn't look like he's seconds away from attacking them. More like he just stumbled upon something extremely unpleasant, and he'd rather not have.

"Why are there like, six of you here right now?"

"There's eight of us, actually," Ari says, just to point it out, but no one else moves to say anything. It seems like one of the most appropriate things to say at the moment.

"I— do you really think I'm specifically counting right now?" He asks. "Seriously, if there's ever a day in my life where Bastian doesn't purposely try to make my life miserable, assume I'm dead."

"Uh, what?" Jasper says instead of asking any of the real questions they're all thinking. Like, _who are you, what do you want, what are you even talking about_? They're all completely legitimate questions at this point.

"What was that about Bastian?" Ghost asks, seeming to regain control of himself before anyone else. "We met him last night. Didn't seem like the friendliest guy."

"Yeah he's not. None of us are. He didn't want you in Macaria's territory, _his_ territory, so he pushed you into _mine_. Really, that's a blessing in disguise. She's a real piece of work."

The confusion has been growing in Nyla's head since she woke, and now it's only getting worse.

"Territory?" Ari questions, casting a side glance towards Ghost. It's the first time they've heard the word since Ghost first explained the Clans to them, even if it's not exactly the same thing.

"Few of the old nests. Some of the woods. Enough to survive. And now you're all here in it."

"We didn't mean to," Jasper says. "Who are you, if you don't mind us asking?"

"Why don't we start with who you eight are?" He says instead, ignoring the question. Which is fair, if they really are sitting in his territory.

"Not like you'll be able to remember," Ari replies. "But I'm Ari. That's Ghost, Jasper and Nyla. Three kids are Storm, Tawny and Cricket. And that's Scotch." Scotch punctuates this with a look that's extra sour than usual, bracing himself in front of three said kids. Not like the newcomer couldn't bowl him over anyway, by the look of him.

"Fair enough. Really never gonna remember all that. Name's Lope. Wanna leave now?"

"No one wants to help us, eh?" Jasper mutters in her ear, and she sighs. Maybe The Skulk wasn't such a good idea. Sure, it'll save them from MountainClan for the time being, but not if everyone here chases them out anyway.

"Actually," Ghost tries. "We were wondering if you could help us."

" _We_?" Lope asks. "Did you just have a mental conversation with everyone else in the room when I wasn't paying attention?"

"We just need somewhere to hide out. Somewhere where we won't be intruding on anyone's territory. If you can show us a place we'll leave you alone after that. I swear," Ghost says, and he sounds more like a leader than Nyla's ever heard before.

Lope watches, and stares. Storm is the closest to him, somehow managing to not even look nervous. It's probably kind of hard to be, when he knows Scotch would throw himself between them in a heartbeat.

"I know a place," Lope says helpfully. "It's on the other side, though. Through Macaria's territory. Like I said, she's a nasty one. Likes Bastian for some reason, has always helped him out. Couldn't tell you why. Kid's a pain."

Nyla's stomach rumbles out of nowhere, complete betraying just how calm and stoic she's been this whole time. Lope's eyes flicker to her, looking more than amused.

"Which one were you again?"

"Nyla," she responds, but instead of teasing, or making some sort of snide remark, all he does is nod.

"Right. We can hunt on the way, before we hit her area. But we're leaving now. I don't have all day to waste, unlike some people."

Nyla's pretty sure she hears a muttered _Bastian_ somewhere in there, and very nearly chuckles. For all his intimidation last night, Bastian really doesn't sound that scary when someone else describes him. She watches Lope disappear out the door but he doesn't leave, just glances up and down the thunderpath like he's keeping watch.

"Think we can trust him?" Jasper asks, also watching him.

"We don't need to," Ghost interjects. "There's enough of us to keep an eye on him. If he wanted to pull something, he'd have done it while we were asleep."

Fair enough. Lope looks like a scrapper, someone who's certainly not opposed to killing others in their sleep. He probably has; she'd be willing to bet on it.

There's very nearly an argument about who's carrying Cricket, who seems to have reverted back into silence since Lope appeared. Eventually he's plastered flat against Scotch's back, at the latter's insistence that the others will be more effective at hunting than he is. Scotch really _is_ old, and it's easier to notice after all the moving they've been doing.

He wouldn't appreciate Nyla feeling bad for him, though. She knows that well enough.

Lope is still waiting outside for them by the time they all step out, but now he's pacing back and forth along a piece of cracked asphalt, staring off into the distance.

"You guys better hope you're sneaky. Eight cats wandering around The Skulk together isn't exactly a popular thing. We'll be lucky to not get attacked."

"There's nine of us, now that you're coming," Ari says, a bit cheekily. Lope turns towards her, and that's the closest he's come to looking particularly murderous, but even Nyla can tell there's no way he's going to do anything. He might look vicious, might have the strength to prove it, but he won't.

Or maybe he'd like the company. Long shot, but he might.

"You all ready to go?" Lope asks, voice sarcastic. "Or do you need another hour?"

Nyla sighs, but manages a smile. Lope seems satisfied enough with that, even though he's still attempting to glare at Ari every time she opens her mouth, and stare back at Scotch because he simply won't _stop_.

"Think we're in for another long walk?" She asks Jasper, and this time it's his turn to sigh. Beside him, Storm cracks a smile, staring after where Ari and Tawny have now taken to trying to pester Lope together.

"Probably."

He doesn't sound sad about it, though.

And she's starting to realize she isn't either.

* * *

Remember when I had a consistent updating schedule? Me neither.


	11. Survival Of The Fittest

Chapter Nine.

* * *

 **Ghost - Middle of The Skulk.**

* * *

The Skulk really isn't the most pleasant of places.

He's been in a lot of not-great places in the past ten moons, but this might take the cake. Every corner they turn he's convinced someone's going to leap out of the shadows and kill him. The sun's shining, and most of the snow is gone, and it still feels ominous. He didn't think a day this bright, what should be relaxing, could feel like this.

The only reassurance is that he still has the rest of the group by his side. But safety in numbers not might be a good thing in a place like this. They can be spotted more easily. A group this size could be seen from a mile away if someone was looking in the right direction. If he's being truthful, the only real comfort he's holding onto is that there's no way Tempest would come this far this quickly, nor would she send anyone in this direction. Not unless she was certain.

Then again, she's done a lot of things Ghost would say he never expected. That's why they're here in the first place.

It helps that no one's really acting scared. Sure, if someone wasn't carrying Cricket, he'd probably be out of his mind terrified, but he seems to be hanging on alright.

There's a row of twoleg nests in front of them, half of one collapsed and falling into the thunderpath. The rubble is so thick he can hardly see into it. Tawny trots right up to the edge of it, though, trodding around pieces of broken glass and sniffing at the edges of the fallen beams.

"Is it all like this?" Jasper asks quietly. Everyone seems to be thinking the same thing. Wondering how so many can live here in such ruin without falling apart themselves. Lope sure doesn't look like he's had the greatest life.

Lope shrugs. "Most of it. Twolegs haven't been here for quite some time. Most of it's fallen into disrepair. You just kinda get used to it."

Ghost doesn't think he could ever get used to a place like this. The only place that'll ever really feel like home to him is the woods and the mountains, fast-flowing streams and the lakes fed by the glaciers in the distance. In places like that he feels like himself. On the journey here, the feeling was close enough, and he was ready to accept it. But not here, _never_ here if he had anything to say about it.

"Have you lived here your whole life?" He asks Lope, and the other tom nods.

"Mother was born here too. She ran with the main group of this place before Macaria came in and took over most of it." By the sound of his voice, when that happened, it didn't happen nicely. Ghost can relate, probably more than others, to not wanting to talk about the past, and what happened to some of his family.

"We can hunt here. Macaria's place starts a few blocks ahead, you'll want to fill up before then. We should probably get through there quick."

Ghost nods, even though they still don't quite know who Macaria is or just what she's capable of. Instantly, though, Tawny rounds on him and is standing in front of him in a blink of an eye, staring at him for a reason he hasn't figured out yet. He isn't sure he ever will, with her. She always seems to be coming with a new idea or asking him something before he's really prepared for it.

"You're gonna teach me how to do stuff now, right? Like I said, I can hunt, but you're a whole lot better. So you have to show me!"

Storm has come up beside his sister, and is looking at him now too, albeit less expectantly. He notices Ari and Jasper watching him too, and nearly splutters.

"You two already know how to hunt, why are you staring at me?"

"Well," Ari starts. "If she wants me to be her mentor, I have to be here too, right? I mean, I'd start teaching her myself, but I don't really know where to start."

Ghost feels a sudden rush of warmth spread through his chest at the fact that she's, well, trying. And Jasper is standing there too, and now that he thinks about it Storm and Jasper are practically different versions of the same cat. He'd be a good mentor for him, just like Ari would be for Tawny. Cricket's too injured to do much of anything right now, but he'll open up to someone fully one day, and then maybe he can fit in too.

"So, obviously you two know the best techniques for getting certain stuff—"

"Obviously," Ari smiles, and he rolls his eyes.

"Start with that. Teach them the right crouches, how to step the lightest, how to take note of their surroundings so they don't make a mistake at the last second. Storm, you're already a pretty good hunter, right? What have you caught?"

"Mostly mice and voles. A few squirrels. Not many birds or rabbits or anything like that. That's more Cricket's thing," he says nonchalantly. Ghost glances over at Cricket, who's been deposited back onto the ground by Nyla, almost surprised, and then thinks better of it. If being that skinny and long-legged is good for anything, it's running and jumping. The kid is probably fast as can be, when he's not injured. Sure, he's so twitchy that Ghost would think the snap of a branch would scare him off, but maybe not. Maybe he's only seen one side of him.

"Alright, so Storm, you can go with Jasper. Start with rabbits. They're probably aren't too many in this area, but at least start with the techniques. Catch anything you want, but see if you can improve on that. And Tawny," he says, fixing her with a particular look. "We're gonna teach you how to only focus on one thing at once."

Her eyes narrow. "I can do that."

Jasper lets out an amused snort as he gathers Storm and wanders off in the opposite direction, in the space between two nests. Ari looks no less amused at the situation.

"I'm sure you can," Ghost insists, and waits. Sure enough, all it takes is for Cricket to make the smallest of noises, not even the most pained of things, and her entire body swivels around to stare at him. Satisfied with the fact that he's doing okay, she turns back to Ghost, and then her face falls.

"Oh," she notices. "Right."

"That's why you're a good fighter. You _react_. But with hunting, you need to have the perfect balance between reacting and patience. There's no point in tiring yourself out by chasing everything that moves when you could just creep up on it and end it instantly."

"You're really smart, you know that," Tawny insists, and it sounds ridiculous, because this is all the basics, but to her it must seem like a wonder, all of this information. She's never had anyone to teach her properly. Now that she has the opportunity he has no doubt that she's be a wonderful asset to any Clan, with how open and inviting she is. Her sharp-tongue won't be an easy fix, if there is one at all, but he finds himself enjoying it.

"Alright," Ari tries. "There's a finch over there. See how long you can follow it without getting distracted. I don't care what runs in front of you, that's not the point." Sure enough, there's a finch perched on a wooden post not far away.

"Don't go past this row of nests," he adds, and Tawny nods, already staring after the bird with a fierce sort of determination in her eyes. She turns back to him, presumably to get one last word in, and turns instead to stare beyond him.

"Who's that?"

By the time he turns to presumably answer the question, Lope has already shoved clear past him from, well, wherever he actually was, Ghost isn't too sure. Whoever it is standing just at the edge of the thunderpath, way too close for his liking. Cricket's on the grass maybe ten feet away, and he's the closest, looking none too happy about the situation. It's Lope who gets between them - Nyla and Scotch are further, and it's not like they want to deal with it anyway.

If he thought Lope didn't look the greatest this one looks infinitely worse, his gray-brown pelt tattered and hanging off his skinny shoulders. Ghost is really beginning to re-think just how bad he had it the past ten moons, looking at whoever this is.

"Long time no see, Lope!" The other tom crows, looking a little manic. "Since when do you have this many friends?"

"I don't," he hisses. "Now get outta here before this gets messy."

"No can do. I think Macaria would like to know there's nine of you just parked at the edge of her territory, don't you?"

There's a moment of silence where Lope just stands there, staring the unknown tom down so fiercely he should be reduced to nothing but ashes from that look alone.

"She won't believe you."

"Maybe, maybe not," the tom says, and then shoulders Lope aside for a second, clearly trying to agitate him. It works, because by the time Lope has thought to get angry the other tom has cleared the ten feet that had been between him and Cricket, and grabbed him. Cricket goes swinging into the air with a barely muffled sound of terror.

"But what if I bring proof?" He shouts as enthusiastically as he can with Cricket hanging from his jaws. "She'll have no choice but to let me in with her then. Just imagine, she'll be so grateful."

"I doubt that," Lope says evenly, way too calm for anyone's liking. Ari is practically holding Tawny back, trying to keep her from making the situation ten times worse, but what could, at this point? Cricket is hanging between any clear shot they're gonna have on the tom, if they have one at all.

"I told you to get outta here," Lope continues. "And you might want to. Just drop the kid and go."

"Think I'll take my chances."

Lope sighs, a bone-deep thing that almost sounds painful. "Alright then."

Just as Ghost was thinking this had all gone terribly wrong, Lope jumps.

He clears the other tom's head by a foot, completely bypassing Cricket, and lands on his back. The tom howls and drops Cricket, and Ghost doesn't even time to move before Ari and Nyla do, almost simultaneously. Nyla scoops him up and Ari shoves both of them back, away from whatever is going on. Or whatever's about to happen, because something is. He just doesn't know what yet.

It takes seconds, and that's it. Lope grabs the other tom by the shoulders and flips him clear onto his back, pinning him to the rapidly warming pavement with a move that seems too easy. Too practiced.

"Remember," he says calmly. "I told you to get out of here."

He buries his fangs in the tom's throat.

All Ghost can do is just stare as the tom's blood goes spilling across the asphalt, as it drips out of Lope's mouth when he finally pulls back, looking completely unfazed.

"Oh," Tawny says weakly, still shielded by his flank. And yeah, he can agree with that. _Oh_ seems appropriate. Ari and Nyla are both staring with wide eyes, and Cricket just has his own shut, squeezing so tightly it must hurt. Lope steps back, spitting a glob of blood onto the grass, and stares at the tom's body with a look of distaste.

"Kinda wanted to do that for a year now," he admits.

"You're insane," Scotch says flatly, although he looks ten times more relieved now that the tom is dead and Cricket is decidedly safe.

"Never claimed to be otherwise, did I?" Lope points out. There's blood staining his muzzle, and it doesn't seem to be concerning him. "Go find the other two. We're leaving before someone else shows up. We'll eat after we get through Macaria's territory."

No one wants to argue. Ari mutters something under her breath and takes off in the direction Jasper and Storm went, which says wonders. Usually, she'd push. Apparently even she's decided she's not willing to risk it, after that little display.

"Not gonna lie," Tawny says. "I wasn't scared of him before. Kinda am now."

"Not gonna lie either. I am too."

Tawny almost smiles, and then her eyes land on the body again and it disappears in a flash, as if the gravity of the situation has finally landed on her shoulders. She quickly pads over to where Cricket is still hanging from Nyla's jaws, and gives a reassuring nuzzle to her brother's side. It doesn't look like it helps all that much, but at least they're all still alive.

It's a lot more than some cats can say, apparently.

* * *

The sun is still high in the sky by the time they get to the other edge of Macaria's territory.

It hadn't been as bad as he expected. They hadn't seen anyone, although Lope had stopped them over half a dozen times while he scouted ahead, made sure that no one was waiting for them. Ghost isn't entirely convinced that he didn't kill someone else while he was off on his own, but he licked the blood off his muzzle not long into their journey and it hasn't made a reappearance, so it's not his place to say anything.

Yet, at least. He has a whole lot he wants to say, but he'll wait.

"You know, for how intimidating Macaria is, you'd think we'd have seen her. Or at least someone," Jasper had pointed out, just as they crested the hill that supposedly marked the border she kept going to keep other cats out. If that's what the idea was, she wasn't doing a very good job. Ari's convinced that Macaria doesn't even exist, at this point, and is just a scare tactic used to keep away outsiders. Ghost is starting to entertain that thought himself.

"The nest is only a few minutes from here," Lope tells them, gesturing down the road. "You can hunt now, if you want."

Ghost can see the twoleg nest in the distance - it looks mostly intact, from what he can see. Better than the one from last night, and if it doesn't belong to anyone, then it's one of the most beautiful things they've ever laid eyes on. Everyone starts moving off in separate directions, practically starving by now, but he stops Lope before he can move off, stepping in front of him.

"Can I talk to you?" He asks, and when Lope doesn't say anything, he marks that as an offer to continue.

"Did you have to kill him?" Ghost questions. "We could've figured something else out. That's not how—"

"How what?" Lope interrupts. "How you do things? Listen, I don't know who you are or where you came from, but that's not how it works here. You kill or be killed, that's _we all_ do things here."

"I just wanted to find us a safe place."

"Newsflash, buddy, you're not safe here," Lope hisses. "This is the worst place you could've come. Don't mistake me helping you for friendship. I have enough blood on my conscience, I don't need the eight of you on it too."

"How many?" He asks instead, and doesn't need to clarify because Lope gets it. Judging by the silence, and the look in Lope's eyes, he's killed more cats than he'd care to admit. Not all of them something he wanted. It's a necessary part to his survival, something he was raised with. Ghost never had to do that, never had to kill to survive. ValleyClan and SlopeClan had such good relations they almost never fought, and if they did it was with words and not claws.

Maybe he understands less about this world than he thought. It would certainly explain why things have been going the way they have.

"So you're leaving, once you get us there?"

Lope gives him a look. "Do you want me to stay?"

If he's being honest, Ghost doesn't know what to say to that. Does he? Would Lope stay, even if he wanted him to? Lope isn't all that much older than him, but he seems it. He looks more worn out, like he knows more things than he should. Being raised in a place like this probably does that to someone.

"Well, you let me know," Lope finishes, rolling his eyes, and then he stalks away. Obviously away from Ghost, but not headed in any particular direction.

"Wait, what?" Is all he can manage as Lope retreats. Is he _serious_? Would he actually stay, if Ghost asked him to? He thought there was no possibility of that ever. The better question is, does he even want him to stay? Lope could be useful, obviously. He's probably an amazing fighter, can obviously take care of himself well enough. But he's about as far from Clan as it gets.

"You doing alright over here? Working hard?"

He blinks out of his own thoughts to Nyla standing beside him, two mice at her paws. She pushes one towards him, eyes twinkling.

"You were gone for like two minutes," he manages, staring down at the mice.

"Yeah, well, some of us have to do the hard work while others just stand here," she teases. Really, he's the only one just standing here. Lope's disappeared, and even Cricket is off somewhere, probably still on Scotch's back because he won't let him out of his sight after what happened earlier.

"Sorry," he sighs. "Thanks."

She nods, and sits down beside him, accepting of the fact that he seems to be lost in his own head for the time being, too many questions milling around for him to make sense of them. And she doesn't push, either. Nyla just continues to eat her own mouse in silence while he takes ten times longer to eat the other. Tawny bounds up some time later with a fat vole in her jaws, looking like she'd be smiling widely if she wasn't carrying the little bundle.

"Pretty good right?" She insists as she sets the vole down in front of him. "First thing I found too. Told you I could focus."

"She actually did a pretty good job," Ari adds, coming up behind her, dropping a squirrel to the ground. "Once I got her away from Cricket."

"But Scotch can't hunt with him on his back!"

"Wrong," he hears Scotch voice appear from behind him, muffled by a feathery sparrow. Cricket is still clinging to his back. "I'm better than you think."

Even Ghost is slightly impressed by that, so he can't fault Tawny for looking so incredulous. Once Cricket is safely deposited on the ground Tawny nudges the vole towards him, shock apparently forgotten.

"You don't even need to hunt, we can share," she purrs, and he nudges his nose against her cheek in thanks. With Lope gone, it seems like Cricket is more relaxed. He's certainly gotten used to the rest of them, or at least he's doing a good job of pretending. His tendency to startle when someone comes up alongside him has faded into something more relaxed.

He's not surprised when Jasper and Storm come back not much later, each carrying two pieces of prey. They're all famished, so it's not hard to convince anyone to eat more than they usually would. When Lope returns, finally, it doesn't look so much he was hunting as brooding, an odd expression on his face. He glances towards the eight of them, all clustered around each other, and the look disappears.

Ghost follows his gaze as he turns to look down the thunderpath towards the twoleg nest in the distance. It'll take them less than five minutes to walk there; Lope should have no obligation to be escorting them the rest of the way. Not when they can actually see it. But Lope waits until they're all finished eating and they rise, ready to move on yet again, and doesn't say a word to imply he's going anywhere.

Upon closer glance, the twoleg nest really is in alright shape. The door is still attached, but Lope props it open with his shoulder. It lets out an ear-grating creak, but seems solid enough. He waits until the rest of the group has slipped inside to follow, gently nudging the door shut behind him. There are enough windows that he can see, but not too much. There's thick clouds of dust slicing through the sunlight spilling in, and he watches everyone take in their surroundings, eyes a little wary.

"No one should come this way looking for you," Lope explains. "Not unless you've got someone coming after you."

He says that with a pointed glance at Ghost, like he's starting to pick up on the fact that this isn't a normal situation. And it's not, but Lope helped them anyway, and the roof above is head is intact, and he's not going to complain, now or ever, about how it happened.

"Thank you," he says genuinely, making sure Lope actually gets it, and he nods.

Tawny bounds up the stairs to their left with a satisfied noise, but it's only seconds later when he hears her let out a yelp, just as he sees her disappear onto the floor above. Ari is the first one to react and chase after her, Jasper on her heels. He's behind everyone, of course he is, so he's the last one to get to the stairs, behind even Lope, who looks concerned for the first time since he walked in on them this morning.

When he crests the top of the stairs, he has to push his way in-between Ari and Nyla to even see what's going on.

It's not like the first time.

When he saw Ripper, he swear his heart stopped. He'll attest to that until the day he dies. But stepping into this room, today, his heart doesn't stop.

It falls through the floor to the ground.

He didn't know that could happen, in a good way.

"I knew I recognized that voice," the cat standing just in front of them says, a blindingly wide smile across his face. It's honestly one of the nicest things Ghost has ever seen in his life. He'll attest to that too.

Brackenpaw.

Ghost is laughing before he can help himself, a half-deranged sound, but no one looks concerned in the slightest. He watches the confusion melt to understanding around the room, all except for Lope, who probably knows better than to question what's going on.

"Damon, what's going on?"

It's not until then that he sees the she-cat crouched in the shadows, behind the once-Brackenpaw standing before him. It takes him even longer to notice the two kits curled by her side, so unbelievably fluffy he nearly mistook them for being part of her silver and white pelt. He sees her hackles rise, almost involuntarily, at the nine intruders that seem to have invaded her home.

"It's alright," Brackenpaw, or Damon, says calmly, and that makes sense. If he's going by a different name there's no reason everyone else shouldn't be. "These are friends."

"Okay, someone's going to explain what's going on here, before I implode," Lope mutters. "This is getting ridiculous."

Ghost doesn't know what to say, what words will explain what's going on as simply as possible. His heart, now that he's gotten it back, almost feels like it's going to explode. It's so different than Ripper. Brackenpaw the SlopeClan apprentice was one of the kindest, most humble cats he had ever known, for being young. And it seems like he still is, like the only son of Sorrelstar and Buzzardflight is the same cat he last saw in the camp's clearing the night everything fell apart.

"I don't know," he says, failing to produce an answer, helpless to do anything other than just watch him.

"But we'll figure it out," Damon finishes, and he may have a different name, but he's unchanged.

"We'll figure it out," Ghost echoes. He can't stop smiling.

He doesn't want to, either.

* * *

This story is literally just murder and a handful of way too helpful coincidences.

Just in case anyone wasn't clear on that.


	12. Choices

Chapter Ten.

* * *

 **Damon - Twoleg Nest, Edge of the Skulk.**

* * *

For a moment, he's not Damon. Not anymore.

All of those memories as Brackenpaw come flooding back in before he can think to stop them. That first night, Cherrypaw helping him make a nest in the apprentice's den. Honeypaw leaving not long after, morphing into Honeyclaw with a few, brief spoken words. Imagining himself in the same position, one day.

He tries not to think of Shadestrike very often. Tries not to think of the mentor he once knew, who was quite convinced she could morph him into one of the greatest fighters the Clan had ever seen.

But that was all a lie, wasn't it?

 _That_ he's accepted.

He turns back to Stark, who still looks hesitant and a little nervous, and tries not to let his own anxiety show.

"It's alright," he insists again. "I promise nothing's going to happen. This is—"

"Ghost." He's interrupted before he can say a name, but takes it in stride. That's no surprise. They're all strangers, now, shells of who they used to be. But that's how they've survived.

"He used to be the deputy of my Clan," and he explains, and Stark nods, because he's told her. As much as he can, anyway, and she seems like the last type of cat to ever go around spilling his secrets.

"This is Stark," he continues, gesturing to the she-cat behind him. "And her kits, Aspen and Flicka."

Said kits are still fast asleep, seemingly undisturbed by the amount of noise. Everyone seems to notice them, all at once, besides for Ghost, who's been staring at them for quite a while.

"Are they— are they yours?" Ghost asks, looking uncertain. Damon laughs.

" _No_ , I was just helping her out. Bit hard to hunt and defend yourself when they're that young."

"I just can't believe you're alive," Ghost says heavily, despite the fact that it looks like a million pounds have been pulled off his shoulder. "I was beginning to think no one else got out."

"I'd say the same," Damon replies. "But with the nine lives and all, I guess it would be kinda hard to get rid of you."

"Alright, nine lives?" The dark brown tabby from before asks, the one who had been confused in the first place. "Okay, now's the time for an explanation, if any."

"You didn't mention the nine lives to me, either," a ginger she-cat murmurs quietly, and Ghost sends what's not quite but almost a panicked look in his direction. One that's screaming _help_ if he ever saw it. Not a look he'd ever wager he would see from him, if not for today.

"When you become a leader, you're supposed to receive nine lives. To protect and defend your Clan."

"But I didn't get them," Ghost finishes, and he blinks in surprise. The last he saw Ghost he was leaving for the Moonspire with Lichenwhisker. Then again, has much of anything made sense, in the last ten moons? Not particularly, and he can't say he's surprised.

"And who gives you these nine lives?" The brown tom asks.

"StarClan."

"Star— you know what, nope, I'm leaving."

"Lope, don't," Ghost interjects, stepping in front of him before he can reach the stairs. " _Please._ "

The weighted silence that follows is the exact definition of uncomfortable, and Damon is certain Ghost is two seconds from getting bodily tossed down the stairs when the other tom sighs.

" _Fine_ ," he says. "I'm going downstairs. You guys have fun up here."

Accepting that as an answer, apparently, Ghost steps aside and the tom is gone instantly, padding down the stairs without another word. The black and white she-cat that had, until this point, been standing silently by his side steps forward.

"We should go too," she tells him. "You can talk, do whatever. Introduce us later."

"What are we going to do?" A small tortoiseshell pipes up. "No offense, I don't want to go sit down there with him."

There's a muffled _I can hear you_ from down the stairs, and Damon tries his best not to laugh. Even Stark looks amused, glancing at the smaller she-cat with a kind of affection Damon had thought she would reserve for her kits.

"We'll go outside, and uh, train. Yeah. Training sounds good," the ginger she-cat says, and she wraps her tail around the tortoiseshell's mouth, effectively cutting off whatever was about to spill out of her mouth. "Let's go. And don't say anything else."

There's a noise of complaint that he can't quite make out, still muffled by the fur of her tail as she gets half-dragged towards the stairs. He watches them go, feeling more relaxed than he has for quite a while despite the number of cats he's surrounded by. Maybe that's it, though. Maybe that feeling of security is what he's been missing all along.

"You don't have to go anywhere," he tells Stark, who gives him a small smile, and settles back onto the ground. Instantly both of the kits burrow back into her side, seeking out her warmth, and he smiles.

"I'm sorry for intruding like this," Ghost says, but he seems to deflate when everyone else leaves the room, realizing this is as close to _him_ as he can probably get. Whatever parts of him are left, anyway.

"It's alright," Stark says for him, because he doesn't seem quite capable of doing anything other than smiling. "I mean, you're practically family, right? Being from the same Clan and all?"

It's not like they were particularly close. He looked up to Ghost, when he was Iceheart. Everyone did. He was the deputy, and he always knew what to do, and he was going to lead them. There was nothing not to look up to.

But they are family, blood or not.

You can't just get rid of that.

"Have you been here, the whole time?"

"No. I've been trying to look for others. Or find anything, really. I was beginning to think it was just me, so," he says sadly. "Found Stark not too long ago. Thought she could use some help."

The past ten moons have been nothing short of awful. He was an apprentice, the weight of looking for an entire Clan dropped onto his back with no warning. It shouldn't have been that way, and he accepted it anyway. It wasn't too long ago that he started to admit defeat.

"We're not, though," Ghost says. "It's not just me and you. There are others. Tempest, Shadestrike, whoever she is, she took our whole Clan. Killed most of SlopeClan. But there are still survivors."

"How do you know?" He questions, trying to keep the skepticism out of his voice.

"Because Frozenkit's still alive. And I believe him."

It seems as if some of the most unlikely are the ones that survived all of this. We wish, at this point, he could say it surprised him. But Frozenkit would've been his denmate, given a few more days, and he knew him because of that. Knew that at six months old he was perseverent enough to survive.

"He's Ripper, now, but he told me some of them are still alive. On her side, or still prisoners. It's not a lot, but it's something."

"My father?"

He already knows the answer, but it's worth asking anyway. When it all happened he had hardly accepted the death of his mother not two days before that, the idea still foggy in his mind. She wasn't there to have the chance to. That's where he was lucky. His father shoved him out of the camp and told him to run before he had even fully woken up, the smell of smoke lingering in his nose.

If he had known how'd he'd spend the next ten moons, he probably wouldn't have listened.

Ghost shakes his head, but doesn't apologize. "Jaytalon's dead too. And Wrensong, and Skykit, but my nephew isn't. Neither are your cousins. He said Starlingpaw and Flintpaw were still alive."

Stark hasn't said anything, but she looks awfully concerned. He does still have blood left in this world, small as it may be.

"So what do we do?" He asks. He's not an apprentice anymore, nowhere close, and maybe Ghost thinks he's the furthest thing from a leader or deputy, but he's not.

He still has that look in his eyes. He's still a leader.

"What do you want to do? I can't force you into anything."

"You wouldn't be," he reassures him. "I want my Clan back. Whatever's left of it. Clearly you do too, or you wouldn't have cats training."

Ghost stares at him, trying to hide the sheepish look in his eyes.

"Thought I didn't hear that?" Damon guesses. "Training apprentices, is that what's going on? Another Clan?"

"I didn't think it was possible either," Ghost assures him. "But it is. They're for it, they actually want to. I can't take that away from them if it's what they want."

"Do they know what they're getting into?" They can't possibly. Ghost may have explained some of it, but the danger they're in is such a tangible thing that it's odd just to imagine anyone wanting to leap into it head-first. If someone does, more power to them. Damon just can't fathom _why_.

"I'm trying to show them. And you can help me, if you want."

The longing in his chest nearly aches with it's intensity, and he finds himself nodding before he's even really thought about it. He wants what he had back. Friends, and family, and someone to rely on. And maybe the other cats in this nest are strangers, but what if they aren't, one day? What if they fight for this so hard that they become Clanmates alongside him?

He wants this. There's no doubt in his mind.

"So you're leaving?" Stark asks quietly, and she's been so quiet since this conversation started it's almost hard to remember her presence.

"Of course not," he says, at the same moment that Ghost shakes his head. For the second time, he wants to be surprised, but of course Ghost wouldn't just leave her here.

"This situation is more ... complicated than you think. We're here for a reason. All we need to do is hide and lay low for a while, and I'll explain why, but we're not going anywhere. As long as that's alright with you." The last part is directed at Stark in particular, who relaxes, nodding. So that's a resounding yes from her.

Which means they're staying here. There's the unspoken question of her choosing to stay with _them_ , eventually, but he doesn't need to overwhelm her with that. Not yet, anyway.

Damon may have lost his parents, his home. But there was something he was clinging to all these moons, something unknown, and now he's found it.

"It's good to see you," he says quietly. He probably should've started with that. Ghost steps forward, though, and bumps his nose against his shoulder like nothing's happened at all.

In the blink of an eye, those ten moons vanish.

He's not going to complain.

* * *

 **Storm - Edge of the Woods.**

* * *

He can't focus at all.

That's new. For him, at least. Cricket focuses on too much too fast and Tawny doesn't focus at all unless you tell her she's going to get to fight someone. In hindsight, it's kind of amusing.

Right now, not so much.

They have to stick to the forest, unless they want to be spotted, but he can still hear Tawny from here. She's no doubt got to be dozens of feet away, but every so often he'll hear a voice complaining, or asking a question. Once in a while someone will shut her up, Ari or whomever else has the time.

There's a resounding squawk in the distance, something that sounds more like a bird than a cat, but it was definitely his sister. He can't help but grin, not even trying to smother his smile.

Cricket had finally been allowed to walk around, or more like hobble with three legs while he balanced precariously and tried not to fall over. He had quickly lost him, though, trying to follow the myriad of scents criss-crossing across the forest floor. He brushes past a fern and water drips onto his shoulders, making him shiver. At least it's warm enough that the prey is starting to run in droves. Leaf-bare hadn't been fun. At least not for Scotch trying to hunt for the four of them at once.

He finally catches the scent of a mouse, one that sticks out more than the rest, and turns to follow the trail. He can still see the twoleg nest through the trees, and Jasper can't be too far off.

It feels good, to have a minute or two to himself, after the hectic nature of the past few days. It feels as if he's hardly had a second to breathe. Cricket's always quiet, almost always scared, and Tawny blends in seamlessly wherever she goes, but he's different. He watches and observes and gets overwhelmed when there's too much going on. Not like his brother does - that's foggy, primal panic. He just doesn't know what to say, and instead he gets quieter.

He doesn't want to be.

Storm has hardly voiced his opinion on the whole Clan thing, and all of his observing has only brought him the facts that Tawny has no hesitation in wanting to do it, and Cricket will follow her because, well, he's Cricket.

And what is he going to do? _Leave_? Obviously not. He'd rather stay with his siblings and die than go off on his own. The world's an unforgiving place - he knows that because he doesn't remember his mother's face, only Scotch's when he started carrying them all around before they had even turned a moon old.

The mouse nearly wanders through across the ground right in front of him and he blinks, stilling himself once again in the shadows of the tall grass, keeping his paws light. That he knows, at least.

He holds his breath and jumps.

His paws trap the mouse firmly between them and he grips it in his jaw, killing it instantly. It's not even that he's particularly hungry after their meal earlier, but it'll be good to stock up on prey in the nest, especially if they need to hide.

Storm trots back to the clearing by the nest. Cricket is still hopping around, and Scotch is watching him like he plans on never stopping, which, fair enough. Ghost and Damon have finally come outside and are talking to Ari, Nyla, and Tawny. There's no sign of any new prey, which means whatever Tawny was doing it just involved making a lot of noise.

Not like that's much of a surprise.

"Good job, kid," Jasper says, emerging from the bushes behind him, holding another mouse. "That was a good catch. Guess you had the same idea I had on stocking up."

Jasper's probably being nice, if he really was watching. Storm knows he spent a solid minute in there mulling over all of the thoughts in his head, standing in the grass like an idiot, but he caught it in the end. That's what matters, here.

Despite the overwhelming presence of everyone else it's not ... bad. Just unfamiliar. He could see himself getting used to it, with enough time. For all he knows, they have all the time in the world. Sure, they're being hunted by unfamiliar cats from a possible gang of murderers, and that's not great, but they have each other.

It's cheesy, but it's true.

"What are you thinking about?" Jasper asks. "Looking awfully pensive over there."

Storm drops the mouse. "Just about this whole Clan thing."

"And about how much of a massive undertaking it all is?" Jasper finishes. "Believe me, I'm already there. But I think we can do it. But only do it if _you_ want to. Don't force yourself into it for the sake of others."

He hadn't noticed Cricket approach him, and it's not until his nose presses into his flank that he notices him at all. Jasper takes that as his cue to leave, knowing fully well Cricket will talk more openly once he's gone. The truth, unfortunately.

"You're doing it for Tawny," Storm explains. "So why can't I do it for you two?"

"I'm not ... it's not entirely for Tawny," Cricket says quietly. "At first, maybe, but now, I don't know. I just always feel so helpless. I've been useless since the day I was born."

"Don't say that," Storm almost snaps. "You're not useless, you aren't."

Cricket leans against his side, re-adjusting his leg. "Certainly not very useful, am I? I could've died yesterday, or when the building fell on me, or guaranteed a million times before that. But every time someone was there to help me. I just like the idea of it. It really doesn't sound so bad."

It doesn't. Cricket's right. He wouldn't just have his siblings, he'd have an entire pseudo family to walk with, to fall asleep next to at night.

So why is he hesitating?

"Jasper's right," Cricket murmurs. "Don't do it just because you can't figure out a reason not to."

"You're way too smart for someone who barely talks," Storm sighs, already knowing he's right, just like Jasper was. And maybe he's uncertain, but he can still give it a shot. Really, that's what he needs to do. See if it works, and if it doesn't, well. He'll cross that bridge if it comes to that.

He doesn't really know how it happens, but sometime after the conversation tapers off they wander over to the other group, Cricket still leaning against his shoulder so he doesn't have to put so much weight on his bad leg. They blend in easily, tucked between Tawny and Ari like they were always supposed to be there.

It almost feels right.

"We were just talking about you," Tawny says with a smile. "Sorta. But you'll wanna hear it anyway."

"About what?"

"Well, I think we all agreed that we might as well kick this off. And Ari's been threatening bodily harm against me if she doesn't get a cool name, so we might as well end the suspense sooner rather than later." Ghost almost sounds eager, if he dares say so himself, which is weird coming from him. He hasn't been much other than brooding or worried or a combination of a lot of bad things since they've met.

Ari grins. "Names tomorrow, then?"

Storm nearly jolts. He was just having a crisis, and now it's happening _tomorrow_? Great.

"Of course, not everyone has to. Only if you agree to it. But just let me know," Ghost explains, and it's almost like he can sense Storm's nervousness, because he sends him a reassuring glance. Storm doesn't do nervous very well, or at least he doesn't know how to hide it.

"And then we begin the serious stuff. Warrior Code, StarClan, all that."

"Yay," Jasper deadpans, and steps away from Ari when she attempts to hit him with her paw. "I was kidding, would you leave me alone!"

Jasper has no choice but to dive away and take off towards the nest when Ari attempts to bodily tackle him to the ground. They're both too fast, and nearly slam into the wall of the nest itself in an attempt to either hit or evade each other. Storm really can't tell.

Everyone looks happy, though. Tawny is practically giggling, Scotch is shaking his head in amused silence. He doesn't know Damon, but the guy sure does look happy.

"This is Storm and Cricket," Ghost says to him. "Rounding out the apprentice trifecta, if everything goes well."

Cricket reverts back to muteness, but manages a smile that's better than anyone usually gets. Storm just nods at the other tom.

"Alright, so who's going to tell Lope what just transpired?"

"Not it," he and Tawny mimic at the same time, and he looks to Cricket with an expectant glance.

"I'm not doing it!" He splutters, uncharacteristically loud for once. It's Tawny who nudges him away, gentle as can be, back towards the nest.

"Nah, you're doing it."

Cricket sends a panicked glance in his direction, realizes he isn't going to be of any help, and mouths something along the lines of _please save me I don't want to die_ at Damon. Also uncharacteristic.

Storm is laughing regardless.

* * *

When will I stop with the GoT related names? Never, apparently.


	13. Game Changing

Chapter Eleven.

* * *

 **Ghost - Twoleg Nest, Edge of The Skulk.**

* * *

He wakes slowly.

It's an unfamiliar feeling, in the very least, and he doesn't quite know how to absorb it. Everyone around him is asleep - the three kids in their usual pile, Scotch curled up just beyond them. Ari and Jasper are together, side by side, as they usually are. Nyla's missing, but if he rises he can just see her silhouette in the doorway, perched on the front steps. The dawn is just bright enough that he can make her out, still early enough to almost be considered night time.

It's different to see Damon not so far away, Stark even closer with her two kits curled close to her belly. It's not an unwelcome sight, though. It's Lope who he's still concerned about. It took half the day just to convince him not to sleep downstairs, and that's only because the wind started blowing in, strong and cold from the mountains. Even then he refused to join the rest of them, instead choosing his perch on the highest step and refusing to come any closer.

Ghost can't really say he blames him. He just wishes he had something more to offer.

He very carefully makes his way to the top of the stairs, treading softly around Lope. He knows they suggested keeping a watch but didn't think Nyla would actually take it up. Or maybe they're just in the same boat, now - he wakes before the sun rises most mornings now.

"Everything alright?" He asks quietly. Nyla startles, so deep in thought that she didn't seem to notice him at all. But when she turns to him, blinking slowly, she offers a small smile.

"Of course. Just couldn't sleep."

"You're not the only one."

He takes a seat on the stairs next to her. The air is still chilly, but with the amount of warm bodies in the nest behind him it's a welcome change. That funny look gets back on Nyla's face, though, one he can't exactly place. It makes an odd feeling rise in the pit of his stomach, and he likes that even less than not knowing what she's thinking.

"Really. Everything's alright?"

"I ... I think so? Can I ask you something?" She questions hesitantly, and if he's learned anything it's that Nyla is rarely hesitant. She got that trait from Ari, he has no doubt.

"Of course," he replies, unwilling to let any sense of fear cloud this. He doesn't know why he's scared in the first place.

"I just think that this is moving a little fast? At least for me it is? I know I'm said I'm with you, and I wasn't lying, but hearing yesterday that things were going to be changing so much ... it got to me. I didn't think I'd be giving up my old life so quick, my name. I just don't know if I'm ready for that." It all comes out in a rush, and she casts him a nervous glance. But that makes sense. How long has he known Nyla, not even a week? All he's done is drag her and everyone else into these unfamiliar messes that he had no right to drag them into in the first place.

"I'm sorry," he says, because he doesn't know what else there is to say. That might be the wrong thing, though, because her ears flatten to her head.

"Don't, please don't be sorry. I know Ari's ready for this, hell Jasper is too. The three kids are all looking forward to it as well. But I don't know if I'm quite ready to take that on just yet. Be a warrior. Mentor someone, if you were thinking about that. It's a lot to take in."

"I would never force you to do anything, you realize that right?" He asks.

"I was just nervous. It's stupid. I didn't know how you'd react."

"Well, as long as you're not leaving—"

"No, I'm not leaving," she laughs. "Do you really think I could?"

When she first started talking, that's what Ghost was afraid of. Losing someone who was hardly a part of this to begin with. He knows that he would have let her go, if she wanted to. Ari and Jasper as well. Regardless it would have let a bitter taste in his mouth, and he would always wonder if he ruined her life for it.

"I just don't think I'm ready for that," she repeats. "Not yet, anyway."

"You can count me in on that too," Damon says from behind them, and Ghost turns back to the stairs. The younger tom is a few feet away from him, looking thoughtful.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want a name either."

Ghost blinks in what can only be described as dumb shock. Damon, however, has never looked more sure. He saw days, back in the Clan, where the apprentice doubted himself or asked if he could be doing better. He trained harder than anyone, wanted to be a _warrior_ more than anyone. And now here he is, saying he no longer wants it. To say he's shocked is an understatement.

"Just hear me out," Damon says. "What have I done to deserve it? Three months of training? I ran from the Clan, same as you. I certainly don't feel like a warrior. Nowhere close. If I get a name I want to deserve it. I want to know that I did everything in my power to earn it. There's nothing I've done in these past ten moons to make me feel that way."

"You survived," Ghost points out.

"That's not enough, and you know it. Or you'd still be going by Iceheart right now."

It stings. He doesn't know if there will ever be a point when it simply doesn't. He and Damon are both looking for the chance to prove themselves, if that chance is anywhere out there. And just like Nyla, he can't force Damon into this. He'd never want to.

"Sunhigh, if you change your mind," is all he says, and Damon chuckles. He knows neither of them will, but it doesn't hurt to say.

As long as they're here, though, he can handle whatever they choose.

* * *

Sunhigh comes too soon.

He hardly even realizes it's here until he's standing in front of everyone on the second floor of the nest. It hardly even seems real. Someone even convinced Lope not to head downstairs again, so he's standing in the corner of the room, looking skeptical as always. The kits are asleep, seemingly undisturbed by the amount of commotion. Considering Tawny's only sitting still because Scotch has a paw planted on her tail, he's pretty surprised.

"Although we are not yet a proper Clan," he begins, and Ari's grin nearly makes him smile. "And I'm sure some of you are still wondering about your future here, today is the beginning. Today we name the first warriors and apprentices of this Clan."

"Ari and Jasper, would you please step forward."

Ari is still grinning, and Jasper nudges her in the shoulder so hard she nearly stumbles off her feet, but it doesn't deter her in the slightest.

"I call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these two cats. Although they have not yet learned the ways of the Clans they have shown the strength and determination of true warriors, and I commend them to you as warriors in their turn."

"Ari, do you promise to learn the ways of the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?"

The look on her face makes him unbelievably happy. "I do."

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Ari, from this moment on you will be known as Emberstrike. StarClan honors your initiative and your enthusiasm and we welcome you as a full warrior of this Clan."

He knows that Damon told her all about what to do, so when he rests his chin against the top of her head she licks his shoulder without hesitation, stepping back with a delighted twinkle in her eye. It's going to be odd, to think of her as anything other than Ari even after such a short time, but he'll get used to it and he'll be happy to all the while. He wondered about her name, for a long while. Wondered if Emberstrike would hit too close to home for him, but she's not Tempest. She's the furthest thing from Tempest, and everyone knows that.

"Jasper, do you promise to learn the ways of the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?"

It's a testament to how different they are. Jasper steps forward calm as ever, still water in the middle of a storm, eyes completely focused. "I do."

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Jasper, from this moment on you will be known as Darkwhisker. StarClan honors your forethought and your compassion and we welcome you as a full warrior of this Clan."

The newly named Darkwhisker steps back to his sisters side, and it's when she presses her nose into his side that he lets out a small smile of his own. He nods at Ghost, showing in his own way that he's equally as pleased as Emberstrike is. The first warriors of his Clan. It almost doesn't seem real. The only thing that really does is the way Tawny won't stop looking at him.

"Alright, get up here."

Everyone in the room lets out a chuckle; even Lope rolls his eyes as Tawny bounces up to him, her brothers following more slowly

"Tawny, Storm and Cricket. You have since passed the age of six moons but it is now time for you all to be apprenticed. From this day on, until you receive your warrior names, you shall be known as Tawnypaw, Stormpaw, and Cricketpaw."

He knows that the three of them, standing so close together he often wonders where one begins and the others end, will be amazing warriors. He knows this Clan, the foundations of it, will raise them into something they couldn't be without it. Even Scotch seems to have accepted it, eyes settling over them fondly and proudly. He can see Damon remembering his own ceremony, Stark considering this for her own kits one day.

"Tawnypaw, your mentor will be Emberstrike. I know she will pass on all she knows to you."

Emberstrike steps forward once again, and the two of them touch noses. He knows that the two of them will be an even more formidable pair than they are right now, one day.

"Stormpaw, your mentor will be Darkwhisker. I trust that you will learn many more things with him as your mentor."

This too isn't a surprise. He and everyone else knows the two have grown closer, because of their similarities. He doesn't miss the split second of nervousness in Stormpaw's eyes when he leans up to touches noses with his mentor, but he has every right to be nervous. This is nothing he ever expected to be doing in life, let alone at this point in his life. It's a big step to take for someone so young.

"Cricketpaw," he says evenly, watching as the smallest tom takes the most nervous steps he's seen so far forward. "Your mentor will be Damon."

"Wait, what?" Damon blurts out. "Are you serious?"

Cricketpaw turns to Damon with wide eyes, but Ghost knows what kind of decision he's making. Cricketpaw actually likes Damon, after such a short time of knowing him. And if Damon wants to truly deserve his warrior name, then Ghost can think of nothing better. Maybe Damon was never made a warrior himself but the past ten moons have taught him to survive, and he knows just how valuable that lesson is.

"If you want to prove yourself, there's no better time," he explains. Of course, he won't force Damon. But he knows he'll be an amazing, kind, patient mentor, and that's exactly what Cricketpaw needs.

"You're sure?" Damon asks.

"I wouldn't do it if I wasn't."

Stark nudges Damon over to them, smiling broadly, and Damon offers the two of them a cautious glance. Cricketpaw looks a little less nervous now, like he was convinced that he was going to get Lope as a mentor or something else strange, and reaches up to touch his nose to Damon's with a complete lack of hesitance.

Just what he needs.

Everything settles. Damon looks at him, nodding his thanks, nothing but gratefulness in his eyes. Tawnypaw bounces back over to Scotch, talking in rapid fire. Emberstrike approaches him then, staring after her in amusement.

"I approve," she laughs. " _Emberstrike_. Sounds cool enough for me."

"Is my name gonna be that cool?" Nyla asks from behind her, and he shakes his head, feeling a little exhilarated. He never imagined it like this, still doesn't quite feel like a leader, but this is a step in the right direction. He hopes, somewhere, that everyone in StarClan is watching down on this. That they're as happy as he could imagine being one day, surrounded by everyone here.

"Of course it will be."

* * *

It doesn't take long for everyone to let him breathe.

The exhilaration becomes almost too much. He hasn't felt this much joy in a long time, nowhere close to it. He takes his leave outside, not long after he watches Lope wander out into the woods on his own, though he insists he's coming back. He considers following him, but there's no point in making Lope any more wary than he already is. The fact that he's still here says volumes.

He takes to the treeline instead, watches the sun get closer and closer to the horizon. He's still careful - they always will have to be in The Skulk, but it feels nice to just breathe, to stretch his legs. To think about all that he has here, and could have one day.

There's no doubt in his mind that he'll always have a familiar ache in his chest, from everything he can't get back.

Hopefully he can fill it with something else.

"Looks like you're doing alright lately."

He trips over a tree root and nearly walks into the tree itself.

That wasn't the voice of anyone back in the nest, it wasn't Lope, and—

 _That wasn't in his head_.

"Are you serious?" He asks, because when he turns and stares back into the trees Jaytalon is just standing there like he has nothing better to do. On closer glance Ghost can nearly see him flickering, a barely there apparition standing in the shade of two bramble bushes.

"Quite serious. I think." Jaytalon glances up, eyes narrowed to the sky. "Don't know how long I have, though. Just a warning."

He stares. He must stare for far too long, whatever that amount is, because Jaytalon actually laughs.

"Sight for sore eyes, am I?"

For whatever reason, Ghost expected him to look mangled, ruined, like how he found him in that camp. When he saw Jaytalon for the first time in StarClan he was fine, so he doesn't know why that should have changed. Maybe he's just thinking too much. Maybe he should stop _projecting_.

"A little bit," he manages.

"Sorry about that. Been having some trouble figuring this whole ghost thing out. Wanna give me some pointers?"

"That's not funny."

It must take everything in Jaytalon for him to not laugh, judging by the look on his face. It's so ridiculous for a moment that Ghost feels a snicker bubble out of his own chest before he can even think to stop. The familiarity of it all is ten times more overwhelming than anything earlier, because jokes at the worst times were always Jaytalon's thing. It doesn't appear he's learned how to stop, even in death, and Ghost is grateful for it. After everything that he's seen change he doesn't need his brother to as well.

"Everything okay in that head of yours?" Jaytalon asks. "I'm not in there currently, so I can't really tell."

"Stop, you're awful."

"That I am. But seriously."

"I think so," he says, surprised at how steady his voice is. "I'm just glad you're here right now. Because—"

Because what? Because for so long, StarClan was just gone? Jaytalon wasn't there, and for so long Ghost was convinced he never would be. To see him now of all times is beautiful, but it makes the ache in his chest flare up ten times worse than before.

"None of us were gone, brother. That was all you."

He blinks, and is about to question all of that, but Jaytalon glances up again, eyes narrowed. He follows his gaze, up to the cloud-covered sky. The stars aren't even there yet, not really, but he wishes he could see them all the same. He wonders what Jaytalon is seeing, if it's something other than what everyone else does.

"Go home," Jaytalon says quietly. "Go back to them."

Ghost is two seconds away from approaching him, from stretching out a paw to see if he's really corporeal or not.

He vanishes.

Ghost is left staring vacantly at the spot where his brother had been standing mere seconds ago, wondering what just happened. Wondering, deep down, if he's so crazy that he just imagined all of that. It wouldn't really surprise him, and there's no one else here to prove him wrong. He can't decide whether he wants Jaytalon to come back or not, which is the most ridiculous part. He misses him more than anything. He'd trade himself for his brother in a single second if it meant bringing him back right now.

But he said home. Go back to them. Jaytalon believes that this nest in The Skulk, the cats inside it, is a home.

It seems so strange, to think it himself. But Jaytalon isn't wrong. There's a future there, whatever it holds. Even better, Jaytalon is accepting that this _is_ a home. A new one, one that he's not going to be a part of, and he didn't sound sad about it. He's happy that his brother gets to live a new life, no matter who is a part of it.

Jaytalon was speaking for everyone up there when he said it.

If he's not going to come back, then Ghost just has to believe him.

* * *

I re-wrote this entire chapter about two weeks ago because it self-imploded and vanished, so it's likely that it's ten times worse than the original but I didn't really have the energy to care when I was in the process of re-writing it.

Ghost jokes for all.


	14. What Comes Next

Chapter Twelve.

* * *

 **Amarei - Twoleg Place.**

* * *

"I'm getting real sick and tired of not finding anything."

Normally it's Amarei who is the patient one, the understanding one, who doesn't let something frustrate her, at least not easily. But she's beginning to agree with Reddian. Tempest sending them on all these missions is useless, because they can never find anything. Fish providing a lead was probably nothing but a fluke. Whoever they're supposed to be looking for in twoleg place is probably long gone by now.

"I know," she sighs, choosing to keep the rest of what she's feeling buried deep where it won't threaten to annoy her more. No use in getting angry about something she can't control.

"I could be _sleeping_ ," Reddian insists.

"Thought you city ones would be used to sleeping on the ground," Azra says. "What, need a comfy bed to get some rest?"

Everyone already knows Reddian's answer will be yes, and hers will be too. She's tired of sleeping on freezing cement, of the noises of twoleg monsters rumbling past in the night. There's a reason the four of them left the city, and this certainly wasn't it. Then again, she's not certain she has al those reasons straight herself.

"Maybe we could use your pelt," Aurane mutters darkly. She's been talking a lot about getting rid of Azra some way or other these days, and it has to be bad, because Amarei is starting to see the appeal.

And to think she's the most non-violent one here.

Carbunkle sends her a disapproving glance, but it's useless with the way his fur is sticking up, flattened in some places and spiking in others. They really do need to get some sleep. Her fur is more brown than white at this point, dingy from trudging through puddles and mud in alleyways.

Ripper finally appears from his investigation into one of the little twoleg nests, leaping over from one of the back fences.

"Nothing back there. Unless you don't believe me, then feel free to check yourself."

"To be honest, really couldn't care less," Aurane says flatly, and that alone does nothing to dissipate the tension in the air. Azra is creeping closer and closer to starting a fight purely just to start it, and Aurane will fight back, and Reddian will jump in so that they don't die of boredom, and there's no way someone won't die.

She's used to people dying. But she was really hoping they could maybe not do that this time.

Which might, might just happen if Azra keeps her mouth shut.

"So where to next?"

"Probably the eastern section, closest to the lake. We skipped over that when we got here, might as well check," Carbunkle suggests and Aurane shrugs, flicking her tail, and just like that the rest of them turn to follow behind her, just like always. Except for Azra, who picks up the pace just enough that it puts her a tail length ahead of the rest of the group, like she can't physically stand to be brushing pelts with the rest of them.

"How do you stand her?" Aurane asks Ripper, one of the first times she's even really acknowledged him since they left. It seems now, though, that they've united against the common enemy that is Azra. Not MountainClan, which has no doubt annoyed them all at some point, or the missing Clans. Just this one cat who doesn't know when to quit.

"I don't? I don't think anyone does. I'm pretty sure the whole guard hates each other anyway."

"The guard was a stupid idea in the first place."

That's when Azra whirls on them, not ten steps down the thunderpath. "The guard was created to protect Fable. To protect _MountainClan._ All this time we've protected you and yet you remain so grateful."

Uh-oh.

"Protected me?" Aurane laughs. "That's a good one. Name one specific time you've ever protected me, Azra. You'd sooner throw me in front of a twoleg monster than help me." The whole time she steps closer, until their muzzles are an inch apart, and Amarei can't tell who looks like they'd rather fight more. That says a lot. Her sister is the type to usually fight first, ask questions about it later.

Reddian is trying not to grin, and Carbunkle looks like he wants the concrete to open up and swallow him whole, and when she turns to Ripper he shrugs helplessly and then turns to stare off in the opposite direction, presumably annoying the situation until it corrects itself.

"Are you saying you wouldn't do the same?" Azra asks.

"Oh, I gladly would. At least we're on the same page with our relationship."

Neither of them will move, but Amarei knows this situation well enough. Carbunkle will shove his way between the two of them soon, long before either of them choose to back down. The situation will diffuse itself, one way or another.

"Guys, seriously—"

"Is everything alright here?"

Carbunkle's voice is cut off by an unfamiliar one, and Amarei turns until she catches sight of an unfamiliar tom, perched on a nearby fence. His brown and white patched fur is relaxed, green eyes genuinely curious, tail curled over his paws.

Reddian smiles cheerily. "Great, thanks! Move along now!"

Instead of leaving, the young tom leaps down from the fence and pads closer to them, glancing at the group of them with wide, searching eyes. Eyes that are far too trusting, if you ask her. To be fair, she looks like that too. She, however, is not dumb enough to approach a group of strangers who outnumber her six to one, strangers who look far stronger and faster than her.

That's Reddian's job, and they do it quite well.

"Seriously, everything's fine," Aurane quips. "Please leave."

"Are you sure?" He asks, and this kid will just not quit. "It seemed like you guys were arguing. If you're looking for your friends they headed into the woods a few days ago, and—"

"What did you just say?" Aurane interrupts, stepping closer to him. The tom brightens.

"I'm assuming you were with the group that was here a few days ago? You look like you belong with them."

"What did they look like?"

"Three younger ones, two gray toms and a tortoiseshell she-cat. Didn't see them very close, but they had an older tom with them. Nyla was with them, she's from the neighbourhood too, and her friends Ari and Jasper. There was another tom with them, a white tom. Didn't recognize him though." The tom seems to cut himself off, looking almost thoughtful, and then shakes his head, apparently finished.

Azra looks at Aurane, who in turn looks at Ripper, who stares at all of them.

"That's not who we're looking for."

"No," Aurane agrees. "But this could be better. This could be Icestar."

Ripper keeps his jaw firmly clamped shut, looking very much like he wants to say something but doesn't. She almost thinks no one else notices, but then she sees Carbunkle staring at him too, just watching.

"Where did you say they went?" Azra says, whirling back to their apparent new friend, who only looks slightly concerned. It's almost kind of disconcerting, how dumb he is. How willing to give up information. She's not the meanest herself, but she's not this. At least not anymore.

The tom waves his tail down the thunderpath. "Past the lake and into the woods. Either headed down towards the city, or The Skulk, if they were stopping somewhere. Don't know why they would stop there, don't know why anyone would, frankly, but—"

"Thank you," Amarei says, trying to sound genuine. "Really. Our friends are probably very worried about us. At least we know where they went now."

The tom smiles brightly. "You are very welcome. The name's Charlie, if you're ever back around here! Stop and say hi! I'm sure my twolegs will leave out some extra cream for you all!"

"Thank you, Charlie," Azra says, voice dripping with sugar, and it's that voice that makes Amarei question everything that just ran through her head.

Her head was was telling her that that should've been it. The conversation should have been over. Poor Charlie should have been on his way, back over the fence and to his twolegs, who would scoop him up and croon to him in that weird language of theirs. They would have been on their way, after the ghost of Icestar and his friends, if they were even really there.

That's not the end, though, because then Azra kills him.

One second he's standing in front of them, still looking terrifyingly young, even younger than Ripper, and the next there are three slashes ribboned into his throat, blood dripping into the concrete. Amarei doesn't even see it happen. All she can do is gasp as Charlie collapses, dead before he even hits the ground, at Azra's paws. She can't see the blood on them through the black fur, but she knows it's there.

"Wow," Ripper manages, glancing quickly between the body and then up into the air. Yeah. Up is probably the safest bet.

"That was not necessary," Carbunkle says, looking suspiciously close to sick as he takes a few steps back.

"Then go back home," Azra snarls. "Or shut up. That, or you're next."

"Go ahead," Aurane says calmly. " _Try it_."

They're almost back to the staring match from before when Azra snarls again and then turns on her heels, stalking off in the direction Charlie pointed out. They watch her retreat for a moment, knowing they'll have to follow but not wanting to.

"Yikes," Reddian deadpans.

Yeah, _yikes_ about sums it up.

"I wasn't even going to do that," Aurane announces, gently prodding a paw into Charlie's lifeless side. She looks at Carbunkle. "You realize that, right? _I_ wasn't even going to kill him. She is certifiably insane."

They've established that. Apparently.

Carbunkle nods weakly, and Reddian gently bumps a shoulder into Amarei's side when she doesn't say anything. She's never been one for the killing. They leave that to Aurane and Reddian, and she's pretty sure she's seen Carbunkle pitch someone off a roof before, even if it _was_ an accident or to possibly save them all. But not her. Honestly, she's not sure she's killed anyone. Hurt maybe, but even that's not so good.

She might have to, soon. The thought scares her.

"Permission to kill her the next time she loses it?" Reddian asks.

"Oh, you don't even need permission," Aurane says. "Just do it."

"Great!"

But they'll probably do it for her.

That thought's comforting enough, at least.

* * *

 **Emberstrike - Edge of the Skulk.**

* * *

"You know, I think I'd like to meet Macaria. She sounds pretty cool."

Emberstrike rolls her eyes as Tawnypaw's voice floats back through the trees at her.

"Aren't you supposed to be hunting?"

Tawnypaw crashes through a patch of ferns and nearly collides with her, a fat squirrel dangling from her jaws. She drops it to the ground, smiling broadly and looking far too proud of herself. It really is a good catch, though, one that she probably had to work for, and Emberstrike can't help the purr that escapes her. They didn't work too hard after they received their names, but all day yesterday they spent training. It seems to have paid off.

"Good job. Now what was that about Macaria?"

"She sounds so scary, and all that. But if she's scary she's gotta be a real good fighter, right? I don't know, she just seems like she'd be cool to meet. Don't get me wrong, you guys are great, but she sounds pretty wicked."

"Wicked's a word for it," Lope says simply, appearing from somewhere to their left with a sparrow. "She eats cats your size for breakfast, you think I'm kidding? You're too nosy for your own good."

"Oh come on!" Tawnypaw cries, as he crosses behind them and disappears back into the woods in four seconds flat. "You should let me meet her!"

There's a distinctive snort, and then he's gone. Tawnypaw seems much less scared of him now that he's been around a bit, seemingly making more of an effort to come outside, and hunt with them, and just interact with the group in general instead of holing himself up in a corner of the nest by himself.

"Let's go bring that back to Stark," she says, nosing at Tawnypaw's shoulder. She's still craning her neck, frantically trying to catch a glimpse of Lope, but she won't. He's way too sneaky, for someone who fights like he does. Tawnypaw seems excited, though, at the prospect of catching something worthwhile and presenting it to someone. Stark is outside, too, sitting in a patch of sun at the edge of the forest with her two kits tumbling around in a patch of ferns.

Tawnypaw bounces up to her, dropping the squirrel at her feet. "I almost fell out of a tree catching this. Took forever. But Ghost said the queens and the elders get to eat first in any Clan and because Scotch is stubborn, you can have this!"

"You're not supposed to admit that, you know," Stark teases, and she touches her nose to Tawnypaw's ear. "I already ate, though. Lope brought me something. You two can share it."

"Lope what?" They both ask, at nearly the same time. But really, though, what's up with that?

"I brought her something to eat," Lope repeats, and Emberstrike nearly jumps. He really needs to quit doing that; it's almost as bad as Darkwhisker doing it to her. He has a mouse added to his collection now, no doubt freshly dug up from where he was storing it, judging by how quickly he came back.

"Since when are you nice?" Emberstrike asks, and he scowls at her.

" _Since when are you nice_ ," he repeats under his breath, muttering. "This is why I don't feed anybody else."

"Cricketpaw's nice to you. So is Ghost, and Damon, and Darkwhisker and pretty much everyone."

"Cricketpaw doesn't even talk to me."

"Point still stands about the rest," Tawnypaw pipes up, and Lope reaches up and swats at her ear, although it's too easy to notice that his claws are sheathed, and there's no force behind it at all.

"Maybe I _will_ go feed Cricketpaw," Lope announces, staring at them pointedly.. He leaves the sparrow with them and takes off back towards the nest, where she knows Cricketpaw is safely napping. He's probably going to be scared half to death when he wakes up in a room alone with Lope, but well. There's nothing she can really do now, is there? Chasing after him won't help.

"Big softie," Tawnypaw scoffs. "Who's he fooling?"

"He could still eat you for breakfast too," she says, echoing his earlier words about Macaria, and Tawnypaw rolls her eyes.

"Could not."

"He could," Stark insists. "But he wouldn't."

Stark seems unrealistically gentle, fierce when defending her kits, but she looks genuine here. Like she knows for sure what they're already thinking. Lope could very well be scary, could very well all murder them, but he won't.

Sure, maybe none of them have figured out why. But that's not what they're contesting here.

She settles down with Tawnypaw to split the squirrel, and the kits tumble through the splashes of sunlight in front of them, squeaking the whole time. Eventually Lope comes back outside sans mouse, so she figures him attempting to feed Cricketpaw at least went alright. There was no screaming, so he couldn't have scared him that bad.

"So, what are we doing next?" Tawnypaw asks once she's finished, scarfing down her food in an impressive time. She gets up, nearly stepping on little Flicka, who goes streaking off across the ground back to Stark. It seems as if the kits still haven't gotten used to the rest of them, still tending to stay close to Stark when anyone other than Damon is around.

Emberstrike doesn't get a chance to answer before the rest of the group appears, Darkwhisker at their head. She smiles and he drops his own prey, Stormpaw doing the same.

"Actually," Ghost interrupts. "We've been talking about what happens next, while we were out. Damon and I, at least. I think we have an idea, but we all need to decide."

"Should I get Cricketpaw?"

"Let him sleep. He won't be involved in this anyway."

Well, her interest is piqued, in the very least. Everyone moves to form into a messy, almost circle, settling down until they can all look at each other. Like a Clan meeting, as Ghost would say, but maybe a little less organized. Stark hooks her tail around Aspen, who is still traipsing about in the middle of the group, and draws her back in before she can stumble underneath anyone's paws.

Ghost nods at Damon. "Go ahead."

"Before I found Stark, before I was here with her for the past few moons, I was by myself. And I went everywhere. Obviously," he says evenly, although she can hear the strain in his voice. "I didn't find anyone. But there was someone I was looking for in particular. Her name is Honeyclaw. Or at least it was, if she's still alive. When I ran from the camp the night the Clans were destroyed she was the only one that was missing. I tried to keep track of everyone, but I think she was the only one who wasn't taken or killed. And maybe I was wrong, but I don't think I was."

"So where was she?" Nyla asks gently. "If she wasn't in your camp?"

Ghost manages a smile. "She was a handful. Just made a warrior a moon before it all happened. Always disappearing. It wouldn't surprise me if she had just run off to be by herself the night it happened, not even knowing."

"The only place I didn't end up searching," Damon continues. "Was the city. I went everywhere else. Every twoleg place I could find, every stretch of mountains, until I found Stark."

"City's even less safe than it is here," Lope tells them. "Don't know why she'd go there, of all places."

"She wasn't scared of anything," Damon says. "I grew up with her. She'd charge headfirst into anything. I thought, maybe, when Stark told me The Skulk existed, that she'd be here. But she's not. So if she's anywhere, it has to be the city."

"And even if she's not, we should still go. Not all of us, just a few. But the city could be useful. There could still be others to meet, to recruit, if we try hard enough. Ripper said there were others missing. Even if we don't find Honeyclaw, we could find someone else," Ghost says, although she can tell how hopeful he is.

"You guys are almost as insane as I am," Lope grins. "I can appreciate that. Don't really wanna go though. No offense."

"You're not going. You need to stay here, with everyone else that stays back," Ghost tells him. "Damon and I are going. We have to. Even if we get split up, we'll know who to look for. And I want Emberstrike and Darkwhisker to go with us. That's it."

Emberstrike blinks at him in surprise, and Tawnypaw goes to protest, but shuts her mouth almost as quickly as she opens it once she sees the sense behind his words. The kids can't go - it's too dangerous. Scotch would be useful, being from there, but he'd slow them down in the long run. Stark can't, not with her kits.

"Nyla's going to be in charge," Ghost says, and Nyla's head whips around so fast it nearly hurts _her_ to watch.

"What?" She exclaims. "I don't - you really want me to be in charge?"

"Let's be real," Darkwhisker points out. "Lope's offense, you're defense. And we're not leaving Tawnypaw in charge."

She pokes her tongue out at him, and he grins. Nyla still looks uncertain, though, and Emberstrike can't really blame her. She knows her friend is nervous about this pace, about how fast everything is happening. And maybe Nyla is uncertain about leading this group, but she's kept them out of trouble for years now. She watches as her friend squares her shoulders, taking a deep breath.

"Okay," Nyla breathes out. "I can do that, if you need me to. I can make sure everything's okay here."

"Obviously we'll have to suspend the training," Ghost says. "But hopefully we won't be gone too long."

"Maybe I can be _nice_ and teach you how to fight something that's not a squirrel," Lope adds, with a very long glance at Tawnypaw. She splutters, and narrows her eyes at him, but Stormpaw seems to take that as fair, having not been present for their earlier conversation. This will work, though. Nyla can keep them going on the hunting with Scotch, and Lope can work on their fighting. If he doesn't walk away from sheer annoyance first.

"When are we leaving?" Emberstrike asks, and Ghost looks relieved at the lack of dissent on her part. Really, though, she's ready to go now. She always is. This is just a bigger part of the whole plan, and she's ready to face it.

"Tomorrow morning. Sooner the better."

She nods, and then watches as Tawnypaw stalks right up to Lope. She didn't think it was possible, but somehow the apprentice looks even smaller standing next to him.

"So, after you teach me how to fight, you're going to take me to meet Macaria, right?"

" _Absolutely not_."

* * *

I don't know what to put here? But it looks nicer if there's something, so.


	15. Sleepless

Chapter Thirteen.

* * *

 **Ghost - Twoleg Nest, Edge of the Skulk.**

* * *

"So we meet again."

Nyla rolls her eyes from where she's perched, yet again, on the front steps of the twoleg nest. This time, though, they've been keeping watch. Their negligence in waiting for something to happen could one day be the product of getting surprised, of something awful happening, and they've all agreed that that's the last thing they need. Of course, it'll be more difficult to keep watch, if they can at all, once the four of them leave.

But he's confident they can handle things on their own.

"Kinda hard not to when I'm always sitting outside."

He doesn't move to sit beside her, not like last time. It's still dark, but they're leaving soon. He's giving the others five more minutes of rest and then they need to leave. It's a long way to the city; the twinkling lights look impossibly far from here, gigantic and imposing, and it's almost enough to terrify him. If he thought this was uncharted territory, then this is another world entirely. He doesn't know how long it will take to get there. Scotch has given them some pointers, some names to look out for if they need help or are in search of directions, but other than that they're on their own.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he says. "I know I kind of sprung the fact that I wanted you to be in charge on you out of nowhere."

She shrugs. "It's alright. I know you meant it well. I've thought about it a lot, too. And Darkwhisker and Emberstrike seem confident that I can do it, so that helps."

"I _know_ you can. That's why I chose you, without hesitation," he says, touching his nose to her ear.

"I just feel like I'm going to mess something up. Like, Lope will leave or Stark won't feel comfortable with us now that Damon's going off, or we won't be able to train the apprentices right. Something like that."

Ghost already feels like he's had the chance to mess up ten times over. He has enough already. He's ashamed of it, knowing how much he's failed and how much he didn't achieve because of how in the wrong he was. All he can do now is try to fix it. That's what he said to Ripper - and he _wants_ to fix it. All he can do is try and hope that it's enough.

"All you can do is try," Ghost repeats outloud. "And yeah, maybe not everything will work out perfectly, but I know you'll try."

"You speaking from experience?" She asks, and he can tell she tries for teasing, but that's not what comes out. It's something a little sad, solemn, like she knows how badly he's messed up in the past despite not telling her the whole story. They know bits and pieces, enough to string the story together one way or another, but not everything. He wants to tell them. But not now, when things are still so fragile.

"You know I am," he says quietly, and there's no way either of them can try to force a smile. Not after that.

"I'll go wake everyone up, if you want," Nyla says, standing.

"Don't need to go anywhere without me quite yet," he says, wanting to laugh. "I'll come too."

It's a quiet, almost somber affair when they wake everyone. Tawnypaw clambers to her feet instantly, reaching up to touch noses with him like she's already upset by him leaving. There's an amount of awkwardness lurking in the air that he didn't quite expect, although he doesn't know why. They haven't split up since they started this, and he guarantees they didn't expect to. It's a necessary step, though, and one he hopes will only further them. They could find some of his old Clan members, or new friends. The ones they leave behind could become stronger together.

He tries not to think of all of the things that could go wrong, but they all continue to hang over him. Reminding him of just how much is at stake.

"We shouldn't be gone more than two weeks," Ghost says, making sure to lock eyes with all of those that he's leaving behind.

"And what if you are?" Lope asks. "What if you don't come back at all?"

That's the question he's been avoiding, the one that's been hovering in the back of everyone's minds. He's sure Nyla's wondering it too. What will happen if they don't come back? He doesn't doubt that Lope will leave, that there will be three apprentices with no mentors, a queen with two kits with no direction to go in. Frankly, he doesn't know what he's supposed to say.

What will be left for Nyla to lead, if there's nothing left at the end of all of this?

"We're not going to think like that," he says, instead of answering the question. They _will_ come back. He's not letting this fail before it's even started.

Lope's not satisfied with that answer. No one is. But Emberstrike just smiles, attempting to ease some of the tension.

"Gonna take more than a little old city to kill me. Have some faith, would you? I didn't get this name for nothing."

Lope and Scotch both roll their eyes nearly simultaneously, and Stark laughs under her breath. Some of the uneasiness shatters, just enough to make them realize that they need to make the most of this. The last time, really, that they could all be together, if things really do go south.

No one is truly willing to part, but they do anyway.

Stark presses her face into Damon's shoulder for just a brief second, but it's enough to see just how nervous she is at him leaving. Even the kids reach up to bat at his pelt, squeaking incessantly. He noses at the tops of their heads, carefully, and then steps away despite their protests. His tail brushes over Cricketpaw's ear, just a second, and then he pads up to Ghost's side, nodding.

Ready as ever.

It's hard, because he can tell that the apprentices already look up to him, by some unspoken rule, and it's already hard to turn his backs on them. Scotch nods at him, and there's something akin to respect in his eyes. Respect that he never thought he'd see, not this quickly.

Emberstrike is pressed up against Nyla's side, murmuring something under her breath. Whatever is makes Nyla laugh, just long for Darkwhisker to approach and say something even quieter, more somberly. She nods, apparently unwilling to respond, and it hurts him to see.

Nyla might as well be the third sibling, the missing piece to the two of them. They certainly act it - like she was meant to be there from day one.

He can understand that. He and Jaytalon had a third sibling, a tiny sister who didn't survive past a week. He still wonders what it would've been like, to have her around, skipping behind them on patrols. Maybe she would've been the one made deputy, instead of him.

Ghost doesn't see Nyla step up to him until she's right there, smiling uneasily.

"Not goodbye, right?"

"Course not," he replies, and she presses her nose into his cheek.

"I'm holding you to that," she says.

He forces himself down the stairs quickly, feeling everyone following behind. Lope is silhouetted in the doorway, staring off down one of the broken thunderpaths into the distance. He turns at their arrival.

"All done with the lovefest?"

Ghost can't help but roll his eyes, and Lope cracks a smile without someone wringing it out of him. It's an improvement.

"So you're headed west. Should take you maybe three days to reach the city, little bit more if you don't take any shortcuts, but I wouldn't worry about that. Stick to the trees headed out; last thing you need is someone chasing you outta here."

There Lope goes again, being helpful. It's a far cry from the cat who acted as if they were keeping him here against his will just a few days ago.

"Thank you," he says, in lieu of a response. "For agreeing to stay here. To protect them."

"Yeah, well. Someone's gotta protect all the damsels."

"If you ever call me a damsel again I'll dig a hole outside and bury you in it," Scotch says flatly, and Tawnypaw snickers. He tries to send her a look, one that speaks _don't antagonize him_ but her eyes just sparkle mischievously when they lock onto his. All he can do is sigh, but he know he only looks fond.

He doesn't turn back, once they step outside. Doesn't allow himself to, because there's no need. In not too long of a time they'll be back here anyway, to this dilapidated nest and the rest of his friends.

His _Clan_.

They're maybe thirty yards down the treeline when he just hears Lope's voice rise above the birdsong and swish of the grass outside.

"Tawnypaw, I _swear_ if you don't stop—"

He groans, and Emberstrike laughs, and he absently wonders if there will be a nest to come back to, with the lot they're leaving behind in it.

* * *

There has been snow under his paws for so long that he almost forgot what it felt like before it.

It's almost nice, with the sun out and the leaves dappling the ground in front of him. Occasionally an icy drip of water will land between his shoulders, enough to make him flinch, but he knows it's just the remnants of leaf-bare attempting to leave.

He's glad it's warm. It will certainly make travelling easier. The prey will still be running too, in droves with the lack of cats that probably live in the middle of nowhere. It was plentiful enough in The Skulk with others around.

It doesn't take long to leave The Skulk. Once they leave behind the maze of abandoned twoleg nests and thunderpaths the trees grow darker and darker, the undergrowth so thick that it's all he can do to follow Emberstrike's tail ahead of his own.

He has no idea what the city will be like. What they'll do, when they get there. Scotch gave them a few names of cats to look for if they needed trouble, some safe places, but it's up to them to find all of those things. Sure, there are four of them, but what if they can't? What if they spend days there to find nothing at all?

He can't imagine Honeyclaw as just ... gone. She's not the type. If someone like him is still alive, there's no doubt in his mind that she is too.

"I can practically hear you thinking from a mile away," Damon says from behind him, narrowly avoiding stepping directly into the path of a particularly thorny bush. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah. Just thinking about Honeyclaw."

"All the times I've thought about her, I haven't even been worried," Damon says. "I know that sounds awful, but I can't help but think that she's just wandering around, not letting anyone mess with her. Anyone else I'd be worried about, but not her."

When she was an apprentice, Ghost took her out a few times. Either when Buzzardflight was busy, or she was just itching to leave when she shouldn't. He lost her almost every time. Would find her an hour later, and she would quip something at him, smile sharp, and then head back to camp. He, a full grown warrior and brand new deputy, could hardly keep up with her.

And just like Damon, it's not like they were particularly close either. Regardless, having her back would still fill at least one of the holes that have been lurking beside him, stop one more specter from following him around in the dark.

"Just what I need," Darkwhisker complains. "Another cat exactly like my sister. _They'll terrorize me together_."

"You love me!" Emberstrike crows from up ahead, ducking around a tree.

"You jump on me before you even know my name, Honeyclaw will probably hit me too, what else could I ask for?" Ghost questions, and she snorts.

"I apologized, stop bringing that up!" She exclaims.

"One of you has to tell me how that even happened," Damon insists, and he shakes his head in amusement.

"Well, we got a long walk. Who wants to start?"

* * *

It's too quiet.

Night's fallen, and he's supposed to be sleeping, but it's too quiet.

Damon is sitting some ways away, keeping watch even if there's no real reason too. It's a habit of living in a Clan, of someone watching over the camp at night. Anything could come out of the darkness.

They, of everything, know that fact all too well.

Emberstrike and Darkwhisker are curled into their usual pile, looking more like one cat than two, but it's almost a little odd to not see Nyla by their side. And even though he's laying directly next to them, he still can't manage to shove down his uneasiness.

He's become used to the warmth of more bodies, of the soft sounds of breathing that would drown out anything he could hear from the outside. Now he's too aware of everything going on around him.

Once in a while Damon will rise to his feet. Pace back and forth through the little section of meadow they've claimed, and he'll snap back to alertness instantly. The swish of his tail over the tall grass, the barely-there sounds of a mouse fleeing from the sudden noise a few feet away.

Something cracks in the trees a ways away, and his head whips around, searching out the source of the noise. He can't see anything - not like he expected to. It was nothing more than the wind or a squirrel jumping back to the forest floor.

His breath catches in his chest regardless.

When he settles down for the tenth time, Damon is swiveled around, staring at him, green eyes filled with just enough concern to make him feel bad.

Yet another familiar feeling.

"You too?"

It's unspoken, what he means by that, but Ghost knows anyway. He thought he was getting better at avoiding the sleepless nights, getting used to falling asleep alone and waking up alone.

If anything, this entire experience is reminding him just how wrong he is, about all of this.

"Yeah," he says quietly, and gives up. Stops telling himself that he's fine now.

He gets up, plants himself next to Damon in the tall grass, and tells himself he's not sleeping tonight instead.

* * *

"Okay, there's no way."

It's the next day. The sun is high in the sky, the fur along his spine hot to the touch. The four of them are all lined up, shoulder to shoulder, staring off at a broad expanse of fast-flowing, ice cold water. It swells over the banks and crashes against the rocks next to them, his paws damp with spray.

There's also no stones in sight, no trees to cross to the other bank. Maybe during a normal time of year the river would be more tame, but he can't help but think it would look dangerous regardless, all white water crashing just ahead of them.

"Gotta go around," he says, trying to prepare himself for just how long that could take.

"If there even is an around," Damon points out, which alright, that's fair. For all they know the river is this bad for miles on end, and they'll tack a few more days onto their journey.

"There has to be," Darkwhisker says, sharing a glance with Emberstrike. "You think—"

"The road coming out of twoleg place?" She finishes questioningly. "That's as good of an idea as ever."

"You two are way too good at that," Damon mutters under his breath, and he can't help but agree. "What do you mean, though. Think there's a way across?"

"There's a road leading into twoleg place from down here," Darkwhisker explains. "It can't be too far from here. If we're right it should cross over the river somewhere."

"You want us to cross the river on a thunderpath?" He asks a little incredulously. He just started getting used to the idea of being so close to twolegs, constantly, and now they want to throw him directly in their path. To be frank, it's not exactly what he expected.

"Don't chicken out on us now," Emberstrike says, jostling him. "We'll stick to the side. Besides, it's just gonna be preparation for the city anyway."

Fantastic.

He spends the next hour or so subtlety hoping that they don't find what they're looking for. The siblings are moving with purpose, though, glancing through the trees to confirm the direction they're going on and occasionally doubling back for a few moments to make sure. Damon doesn't seem near as nervous as he does.

He hears the thunderpath before he sees it.

There's the blaring of a horn from up ahead, and Emberstrike jogs forward up the hill before he can think to stop her. He can see the wind buffeting harshly at her fur from here, see her eyes screw up from the acrid smell. Sure enough, there's a narrow bridge crossing over the thunderpath, just enough for two of the monsters to squeeze through side by side with maybe a foot on either side.

But what is he going to do, stay here?

There's almost an argument about who will go first, until Darkwhisker moves forward without asking, some unknown brotherly instinct taking over before he can question it. He pushes himself right up against the barriers, feet planted firmly on the thunderpath, and begins walking.

Ghost holds his breath as a monster zooms right past, mere inches from his side, and that's almost all he gets before Emberstrike shoves him after him.

He does as he sees. Pushes himself up against the warm concrete, screwing his eyes almost completely shut. Partially because they're burning, at the wind and the dust and the harsh smell, but also because if he has to fully see what's going on he'll just freeze in terror.

Some former deputy, almost leader he is.

He can feel Damon at his haunches and forces himself forward, nearly tripping over his own paws as a monster crosses on the opposite side. He just barely sees a twoleg throw a fleeting glance at him as they go flying past.

When his paws touch grass again he bolts forward an extra ten feet for good measure. Damon and Emberstrike are right on his heels, and Darkwhisker shakes his head in amusement.

"Found your weakness," he says. "And it's _thunderpaths_ , of all things."

"Not funny," he says weakly. There's a nervousness built up in Damon's shoulders that show he's feeling the same thing. Their separation from twolegs was one of the things that made him feel most safe, back in ValleyClan.

They're everywhere, here. He has no choice about where he's going now.

Damon shakes himself, and points his tail behind them. "Look at that."

This close to the thunderpath they have an almost perfect view of the city below them, not obscured by trees or mountains. It really is huge, a sprawling mess of gigantic twoleg buildings and nests alike, towering into the sky. Still a full day's travel, if not more, and they still have to hunt and rest.

It's all so imposing, like they're about to enter the belly of the beast. Willingly, at that.

"You good to go?" Emberstrike asks him, and once he would expect her to tease, but she just gives him a knowing little smile, and he shakes himself as well.

"Don't really have a choice at this point, do I?"

"Nope. Go on, fearless leader."

He's not fearless. If he's proven anything it's that. But they're still willing to believe it, to believe _in_ him. To call him a leader, despite what they know.

Maybe what's keeping him awake at night is the thought of all of the things they don't know.

* * *

Probably no update next week for out of the country shenanigans, but we'll see.


	16. Live Another Day

Chapter Fourteen.

* * *

 **Starlingpaw - MountainClan Camp.**

* * *

Someone outside was screaming.

She was trying to ignore it - pressing herself into the furthest corner of the den, trying to block out as much of the noise as she could.

Flintpaw was gone. Goldenleaf too. Fish hadn't even been here when she had woken up, so far all she knew he was dead. Or worse. The fact that there was a worse at all made it amazing that she could sleep at night. The worst part currently was the crack between the boulder and the rest of the den. Pushed open just enough that they could hear it, no matter what she did. There was no way to shut it, not with the guards outside and her feeble strength. Not like she would try it anyway. She had learned a long time ago not to try it.

Pandora was as close to the entrance as she could force herself, fur bristling. "Get up."

She rises to her feet before she can begin to ask why, already knowing that whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good. The boulder is shoved aside without warning, and she blinks frantically against the sudden invasion of light, struggling to see. She hasn't been out of the den in a few days.

"Let's go."

She recognizes that voice. It's Mali, and they don't usually send her because of everyone she seems to be the one that would be most likely to harbor any sort of sympathy. Which means it's serious. She can see Landon just beyond her, the broad-shouldered shape of Jinx lurking in the background. There are a few others too, just milling around, but there are no friendly looks on their faces.

Pandora goes wilingly, just like they all would, sending a reassuring glance back in her direction before she disappears. It's odd, how much Pandora seems to care for her. For all of them. She doesn't know how old the other she-cat is, just knows that she's the youngest of them all, and yet she still finds it in her to care more than anyone else ever has.

She's left alone in the den for a moment, Mali's amber eyes staring back at her impassively. She exits the den before someone can force her out.

The snow is gone. That's the first thing she really notices. She can feel warmth against her fur, a startling contrast to the interior of the den.

The second thing she notices is her brother, pinned to the ground by his neck, and her father's hulking form standing over him.

There's no remorse in those eyes.

Pandora is already out of sight, and she can't see Goldenleaf anywhere despite the fact that they must be forcing her to watch this too, and all she can think of is Cherrypaw. Her sister, tinier than the two of them, bright and eager reduced to nothing but terror as they forced her to fight to her own death, because she never had a chance of winning, and they all knew that when she started fighting back.

Flintpaw meets her eyes, and that's why it's different than Cherrypaw. He just looks resigned, and weary, and like he's been preparing himself for this for a long time.

They all have. She just didn't want to watch it happen.

"Move and you're dead," Mali hisses in her ear as they force her to the edge of the circle, shoved in-between the mass of all of the other MountainClan cats watching. Waiting, for someone's blood to be spilled.

She won't move.

There's too much going on. Flintpaw gets dragged into the middle of the circle, surrounded by raucous cheers. Their father is still holding him down, not even sparing him a glance as he lays limply under the paws holding him to the ground. Mali is no longer by her side, but Landon is, and she knows she'll die if she so much as looks away. That's their punishment.

Goldenleaf is across the circle, and then she notices Fable standing by her side, whispering something in her ear. Whatever it is, it can't be pleasant, but Goldenleaf does as she always does and stares resolutely ahead, unwilling to respond or let anything he says invade what she's thinking.

"What's going on?"

She starts as Fish is shoved in place beside her, his eyes wide. He's staring at Flintpaw's prone form, just lying there helpless on the ground. All she can do is shake her head, even as Fable strides into the middle of the circle, eyes gleaming.

"It's been quite a while!" He announces. "Since there was blood spilled on this mountaintop."

It's words she's heard a hundred times, in different forms and variations. Fish has never heard them before, though, and he looks between her and Fable like he's expecting an answer to break through the ground in front of him.

"However, there is much to celebrate," Fable emphasizes. "Our new guest has provided us with information, that while weak, only further cements the fact that our missing Clan friends are still out there, skulking through the shadows. Refusing to accept what has already happened."

More caterwauls, like they can scent the blood already. She ignores Fish flinching beside her, once he realizes that this could very well be his fault. That whatever information he gave up has put them in this position.

They always need to celebrate.

Tempest is sitting in the shadow of a rocky overhang, eyes calm. She almost doesn't notice Jet sitting at her side, pelt so dark he's hardly visible. He leans down and murmurs something to her and she _laughs_ , grin sharp and wild.

It's hard to look at that smile, after trusting it for so long.

"MountainClan knows how to celebrate in the best of ways. After all, it appears as if we'll be getting some replacement parts soon anyway."

Replacement parts. Like they're nothing more than the foundation of a den, or a pebble at the riverside. That if they find new Clan cats, there's no point in keeping the old. The ones who have refused to break all these moons.

 _Replacements._

Fish realizes what's going on all at once, and she can't stop him from stepping forward.

"He hasn't done anything wrong!" He says, just this side of too loud, and she winces. Everyone falls silent around them, the excited shouts and cheers dying off as their eyes fall on him. At the one who has dared to speak when he should know his place, his situation.

"It isn't your place to speak here," Fable says calmly, but his eyes are shining with interest. Like he's tapped into something unfamiliar. Tempest's ears are pricked in the gloom, head tilted to the side curiously.

"You can't kill him," Fish insists. "You can't. What point is there to that?"

"I _can't_ ," Fable laughs. "You hear that, MountainClan? I _can't_ kill the once ValleyClan apprentice. What a _tragedy_!"

Everyone's laughing, now, and Fish's ears are flattened to his head uneasily. He tries to look at her, to catch her eye, and she won't let herself look up at him. In the days she knew him, he was nice. Had a dry sort of wit that was welcome, in their times of darkness. The type that she had lost long ago, in the face of everything else going on. But there's a reason she wouldn't let herself get attached to him.

Her brother wasn't going to die today.

"Go ahead," Fable says to her father, and she sees his paw press harder into Flintpaw's neck, a warning, before he leaps away. Towards them.

Towards Fish.

He doesn't get a chance to move, to flee. Not that he would be able to anyway, with the crush of bodies surrounding them. She's jostled aside as Bandit grabs him in a neat second and flings him into the middle of the circle. He hits the ground, dazed, and Flintpaw takes off. Back towards Goldenleaf, towards the smallest amount of safety he can grasp.

They let him go, though. Because he's not what they want. Not anymore.

The whole crowd descends on where Fish had just been struggling to his feet, head bleeding sluggishly and eyes wide. He's swallowed whole almost instantly, ginger pelt disappearing against the stark gray of the stone as he's lost in the sea of writhing, cackling bodies.

She's alone. There's no one watching her, no one making sure she won't run. They've all turned to more desirable activities.

She can't move.

A pelt presses against her side as she stands there, almost transfixed, watching a spray of blood scatter through the air. Fish has stopped screaming. She doesn't know if that means he's unconscious or just dead, already. She hopes he's dead.

"Don't look away," Shiera says, whispers, almost. But she's not.

Shiera has always struck her as odd. As much Clan blood runs through Shiera's veins as her own, and yet she's always been different. Sometimes, Starlingpaw wonders if she would have been this different anyway, had she grown up in the Clan. Always at the edge of every conversation, curiously quiet, eyes sparkling like she knows things nobody else does.

"I'm sorry," Shiera murmurs, almost as peculiar as anything else that comes out of her mouth. Starlingpaw swallows, finally, looks down at her. Stares. Shiera doesn't look afraid; she never does, but she never really looks much like anything else either.

But she's always been there. Not for Goldenleaf, not for Flintpaw, but for _her_. At the strangest of times, but there nonetheless.

"For what?" She makes herself say. There's no reason to apologize for Fish. She didn't know him, not really, and she can't say she's upset that her brother's life was spared. Can't make herself feel as bad as she once would.

Shiera's gaze flicks to the side, back to the shadows, and she follows it. Tempest is still sitting there, tail curled neatly over her paws. Jet is gone - she can't really bring herself to wonder where he went just yet, if he participated in tearing someone she might have one day called a friend apart or if he just got bored of watching. She may not know Jet, but he's always played the jester, not the murderer.

That's Tempest's job.

Like she can sense them watching, Tempest's gaze lands on them. At their pelts pressed together, at the way Starlingpaw doesn't look scared at _all_.

Tempest nods, and smiles, the barest hint of one that just barely curls her muzzle, and Starlingpaw accepts it.

Her brother will not die today.

And neither will she.

* * *

 **Stark - Edge of the Skulk.**

* * *

Stark isn't as uneasy as she thought she would be.

The other group has been gone for two days, and it's not like she wanted anything terrible to happen, but she certainly expected it. Some sort of mass explosion that tore them all apart and scattered them in every direction, leaving her alone once again.

She doesn't think she's meant to be alone. She grew up in a small group, deep in the mountains, and it wasn't perfect but it was what she knew as home. When she left, it was because she needed to protect herself. Safeguard the future of her unborn kits. And it had been hard, impossibly hard, to care for herself and give birth to her kits all alone. She knew what she was getting into when she left, though.

When she met Damon, it was different. Still in a fair amount of pain, days after giving birth to her kits, and with no clue how she was going to keep the two of them alive, let alone herself. He is possibly the kindest, most genuine cat she's ever met besides the friends she had at home, and he's never mistreated her. Always been there as the friend she needed in this new journey, but never had.

He had carried both of her kits here, hunted for her, let her sleep without the fear of someone approaching in the night.

And she's happy. Mostly. Still with those lingering thoughts about the family she left behind, but content with where she is now.

"Are you sure you're fine watching them?"

"Yes," Scotch insists for what must be the twentieth time. " _Go_. I've kept these three in my sights since they were infants, though I don't know how. These two can't be any worse."

Cricketpaw's wide, innocent eyes aren't giving away anything. As she watches Aspen tries to pelt after her, and is caught at the last second by Scotch's tail. It's weird, leaving them with someone who isn't Damon, but she wants to go outside and hunt and stretch her legs. Besides, she knows they're more than capable. Nyla is outside, Lope too, and nothing is going to happen to them.

Besides, she does need to go outside. Perhaps not for the aforementioned reasons that she shared with everyone, but she needs to.

Damon used to do this every day, before. Mentioned patrolling and watching the perimeter and keeping them safe, above everything else. And it feels wrong to let that go, to leave it untouched. She knows how important it was to him, knows that it was something he did when he was younger, and it makes her feel like she belongs. She knows all too well the importance of living with a group, how it's easier to keep each other alive.

She knows Ghost wants to create a Clan, and she thinks she wants to be a part of that.

There's no reason for her to trust any of these other cats, besides Damon, and yet she wants to. The urge is there, to get to know them, to be friends with them, to understand them in any way she can. In her old home they were almost _too_ close; anger and rage brewed almost every day and there was no escaping it, not with so few of them. A Clan is different, though, or at least it seems so. They protect each other, become shoulders to lean on when things become too rough to handle alone. And she's needed that - to have that and to be that. Like she said, she doesn't think she's a cat that's meant to be alone.

Nyla and Tawnypaw's voices are drifting quietly back through the trees, and she's almost certain Stormpaw is with them, if not close by. Lope has been not quite with them since the others left, hanging around perhaps because he feels some sense of duty to, but not making any effort to really be there. The biggest breakthrough they've gotten is Nyla convincing him not to sleep downstairs a few days ago, although his compromise was sleeping at the top of the stairs, as far away from practically any of them as he could get.

Stark skirts away from their voices, sticking to the treeline but headed further down the thunderpath, keeping her ears pricked. It's odd, to her, that they haven't seen anyone. A group this big should have provoked the interest of someone by now. Her and Damon were subtle enough on their own, but not everyone else.

So of course, not five minutes later, she sees someone.

They're terribly far off, barely more than a blip in the distance, but the fact that she can see them is enough to send her crashing into the undergrowth, fully well knowing that she sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of the day.

She flattens herself to the ground, peeking out under the ferns. She can hardly even tell what they look like from here, half-casted in shadow, and it appears that they aren't doing much other than hunting. Still, that's not good, is it?

"What are you doing?"

She jolts, but it's only Lope, standing a little ways into the trees, staring at her incredulously. She waves her tail at him, in some sort of half-aborted gesture to _please don't be too loud_ but he only continues staring.

"Seriously, what—"

She has no choice but to get up, shoving him down the second she gets close. He splutters, but lets himself be pushed over until he's sitting in the same patch of ferns she was, looking nothing but if a little bit annoyed. He'll live.

"Look," she says under her breath, pointing her tail. He follows it until she can tell that he sees the other cat, and he simply stares.

"Okay?" He asks, and gives her a _look_.

"What do you mean, okay? They're a little bit too close to us, aren't they?"

"In case you hadn't realized other cats live here. I lived her the whole time you were here before, you know. It's really not a rarity to see someone else walking around." He lets out what almost sounds like a little delighted noise at her look of annoyance, and looks back out at the cat in the distance. Maybe she's being irrational, but they have to take even more precautions with less of them around. Or more. She hasn't really figured that out yet.

"Want me to kill them?" He asks after a minute, voice casual.

" _Do not_."

"Was just offering," he says, laughing. "But probably ... don't head this way anymore. To do whatever you were doing. Probably should stay closer to home."

"You coming with?" She asks, and she can see that split second hesitation he has warring inside him. There's no doubt he'd rather be out here, alone like he was so used to being before. There's a level of hesitance in his eyes, though, like even he isn't quite sure of what he wants.

"I will in a bit. Just have to pick up some prey first."

"Do you mind if I come with you, then?"

Lope shrugs. "Sure. If you want."

It's odd, but there's almost a swell of warm satisfaction in her chest that he agreed at all, let alone so readily. She doesn't want to push him, though, either, so she stays a few paces behind as he makes his way back through the trees, just watching. She really doesn't know what it is about him. Maybe it's just the fact that she's never had a chance to really meet someone from here. When she made her way here, moons ago, she didn't know what it was. The Skulk seemed like a safe place, somewhere to take refuge in. If she had known what it was really like, there's a chance she wouldn't have come here at all.

There's a slight part of her that's grateful that she didn't know. She wouldn't have met Damon, and she wouldn't have come to know the others.

It's enough to make her satisfied with the choice she made, in leaving her old home.

That's another thing she likes. That no one here questions it, why she was here by herself, days away from giving birth to fatherless kits, in a place she had no right to be. Everyone here has their stories, though. Maybe that's why.

She watches Lope dig up his prey, and takes a mouse from the pile before he can tell her otherwise, picking up some of the burden. He doesn't say anything, but his ear twitches in acknowledgement, something appreciative behind it, and she can take that, for now. It's not leaps and bounds, but it's certainly something.

"I'm beginning to think Tawnypaw's right, you know," she says, which is about all she can think of right now. Maybe she'll regret it later, but it's what she wants to say.

"About what?"

"That you're secretly a big softie."

Lope blinks at her, looking amused. "You can't prove that, you know."

"One day," she insists, and he rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, one day," he laughs, bending to pick up the rest of the prey. She knows he only repeated the words to make her feel better, but she can't help but feel, as he turns and starts walking back towards what he called home, that he's not exactly opposed to the idea.

She can handle that.

* * *

A day early because I feel bad about not updating two weeks in a row.


	17. Concrete Wasteland

Chapter Fifteen.

* * *

 **Ghost - Edge of the City.**

* * *

The city is an imposing thing to look at.

He's never seen anything like it in his life. All of a sudden he feels very small and inconsequential, standing in front of it.

Well, of course, there's still the matter of what's directly in front of him, but he was hoping not to really think about that just yet.

"What is that?" He asks finally asks. There's some sort of gigantic, even more terrifying twoleg monster barreling past them. The good thing is it looks like it's restricted to staying on a very narrow pathway twisting through the tangle of grass and rock. The thing is, in reality, he can feel the ground shaking from here and even though it doesn't look like it's coming anywhere near them, Ghost really doesn't have any desire to find out if it will.

"Train," Darkwhisker says calmly. "Scotch mentioned it. Says they carry twolegs places, or stuff twolegs use. They don't leave the tracks though, so we'll just wait until it goes by."

Ghost stares off, in the direction it's coming from, and can't help but think it looks never-ending.

"Twolegs are weird," Damon decides, and it might be the most true thing anyone says on the entirety of this journey.

The thunder in the ground begins to settle, eventually, and the train zips out of sight, still emitting one of the most ear-grating, deafening shrieks he's ever heard. He can't tell if it's a siren, or a horn, or similar to the noises that some of those smaller monsters make, but he never wants to hear it again. In fact, after this journey, he never wants to come to this place ever again.

And they haven't even really gone _in_ yet. His outlook isn't too great, on the whole situation.

"Now or never, right?

Even Emberstrike, despite her words, doesn't look as confident as she normally does. That's disconcerting in itself, and Damon smiles nervously, and wow does he really not want to do this.

Although, he supposes, feeling terrified is better than feeling nothing, like he did for so long.

"So we should probably find someone that Scotch mentioned, right? Better than walking around blind," Darkwhisker points out. "He said there should be a place right at this edge somewhere, so we just ... have to find it."

Easier said than done, but the city can't stretch on forever. Besides, Scotch told them to head away from the busiest parts, at least until they found someone to escort them through the worst of it. So that's exactly what they do. They crest the hill above the nerve-grating train tracks and descend down towards them, but away from the heart of the city. There's parts of that even from here that look less distinctive - made of flat, stretched out buildings with low sloping roofs. There's also less monsters circling around, less twolegs in general.

Ghost carefully places a paw against the train tracks when he sees Emberstrike do it with ease, sees Damon follow with only a moment's hesitation. The rumbling has faded off, but the tracks are still warm to the touch against the sun, and he can't hide how happy he is to cross them without anything happening.

"Alright. Now or never for real," he says, and Emberstrike shakes her head in amusement.

It's not by a mistake that he ends up in the front; it's almost as if everyone falls back to let him take the lead, like that's what he was supposed to be doing all along. It still feels odd, stepping back into that leadership position, but everyone else seems so willing to let him do it. Despite him focusing on what's going around him, on the quickly dissipating sounds of the busiest sections of the city, he can steal hear Damon talking quietly with Darkwhisker just behind him. No doubt about what's going on back up the mountain, how the kids and Stark are holding up. Oddly enough, he's not as concerned as he thought he would be. There's a certain amount of faith he has, in Nyla to keep things held down and for Lope to protect them, if something does go wrong.

After not knowing them for long at all, it's weird, just how much faith he does have.

"Doesn't even really seem like there's anyone around here," Emberstrike says carefully, looking around. A twoleg monster goes buffeting past on the thunderpath in front of them, but there's no others to be seen. In fact, there's not all that much around in any respect. The buildings are indeed more spread out, larger, and there are oddly shaped twoleg monsters scattered about, high barbed-wire fences keeping them safely tucked away.

"Maybe it's an off-day?" He tries, but she doesn't seem convinced. If anything, more wary than ever.

They cross the thunderpath without fuss either, and then they're left in a labyrinth of twoleg buildings with no clue where to go.

"This isn't nerve-wracking at all," Darkwhisker says, rather calmly, and if he hadn't spent the past few days by his side Ghost would think he really was that calm. There's a slight undercurrent or nerves in his voice, though, and that's enough to un-nerve them all in one quick second.

It's almost as if they're resigned to standing there forever, and really, they all look quite content with that decision. This is uncharted territory, one that none of them know how to handle, and not for the first time is Ghost wishing that they had just brought Scotch with them, no matter how much he slowed them down. The older tom would've known what to do here, where to go, who exactly to find.

 _No offense, Jaytalon, but I think we might be prematurely done for_ , is all he can think inside his head. There's been no sign of his brother, not for the past few days, but it's still comforting to know that he might be there.

 _Nah_ , is the instant response, and he blinks in surprise, nearly smiling.

A cat appears at the end of the road, and he blinks again, quite sure he's hallucinating it.

 _I'm begging to think you're doing that on purpose_ , he thinks, and almost thinks for a second that he can hear his brother laugh.

Whoever the cat is, they're young, probably not even six months old. He blinks at them, eyes terribly wide, and then glances over his shoulder and back again so quickly it almost hurts his own neck.

"We're not here to hurt you!" Damon calls out. "We just need some help getting around! We're not from here!"

In case that wasn't already glaringly obvious.

The small tom doesn't even seem to hesitate before he starts trotting towards them, and what Ghost once thought was just blatant terror in his amber eyes is genuine curiosity as he gets closer. Oddly enough, fear seems to be the last thing on his mind as he regards them all. It's quite bold for someone who's so small he could probably step on them and hardly notice.

"Who're you guys?"

"Uh," he says intelligently, still a little shell-shocked just by how sure this little cat seems of himself. "I'm Ghost. This is Damon, Emberstrike, and Darkwhisker."

"Huh. Weird names. You said you were looking for someone to help you get around?"

"Yeah."

"Then you're probably looking for the abattoir?"

"... Yes?" Ghost tries. Whatever that is, that's not the word Scotch used. To be fair, Scotch didn't even give them the greatest descriptions in the first place, turning to blame most of it on his age and then giving them descriptions that could fit just about anyone or anything. If this tom is willing to help them though, he's ready to go just about anywhere.

"Alright then," the tom says simply, and then he turns around and walks off.

"What," Damon says flatly.

"Are we supposed to follow him?" Emberstrike asks.

"Do we even know his name?" Darkwhisker adds, looking equally confused.

In their confusion, the tom has already made it off a little ways down the road, and he peers back over his shoulder at them quizzically. So they're _supposed_ to follow. That's a good sign, right?

Whoever they're following seems to be taking the _don't talk to strangers_ motto a little too firmly - all he seemed to get was the basic information, and now he's keeping his mouth shut. It almost feels foolish, following around someone who would still be a kit, but this kit could know what he's doing. His gray-brown pelt blends into the pavement when he lets him get too far ahead, and he keeps finding himself speeding up to make sure he doesn't lose sight of him as he rounds corners, ducks under fences, and shoves his way through barely there gaps between buildings.

"What is that _smell_?" Emberstrike complains as she wriggles under yet another fence. She leaves behind a piece of ginger fur, and grimaces at it. Honestly, he had been hoping he was imagining it. There's a strong scent of rotting meat, making his eyes water as wherever their guide is taking them gets closer, no doubt.

"Hope we don't find out."

Which means, of course, they find out exactly what it is.

The scent is so bad he can hardly stomach it, and so of course the tom slips through the entryway of the largest twoleg building yet, where the worst of it seems to be coming from. He doesn't reappear to make sure they're following, which means they really don't have a choice.

Ghost makes himself go first, because that's something a leader would do, and as he pushes his way inside he doesn't really know what to focus on.

The smell ... definitely doesn't get any better, is what he wants to notice. The ceiling is high in the distance, windows everywhere filtering in weak sunlight, and all he can really see is all of the cats milling around.

There's not an overwhelming amount of them, just a few groups scattered here and there, talking in hushed conversation, or laughing, a sound he didn't expect to be hearing. It almost nice, sans the smell. Half the building looks ready to fall apart but he can see spaces where cats have tried to make it more comfortable, more like home. There are little alcoves to fall asleep in, spaces to sit and soak in the sun. And no one looks all that surprised to see them.

"C'mon!" The tom calls from up ahead, and he watches him walk quickly up a rickety metal staircase and then disappear, up further into the building, and he hurries to catch up with the others hot on his heels.

There's not as many cats up here, but enough that, despite the abnormality of the situation, he almost feels a little safe.

"Pike! Where have you been?"

A rather large she-cat, her tortoiseshell and white patched pelt, bristling, appears at the end of the hall. She curls her tail around the little tom, who must be Pike, eyes wide.

"You can't just run off like that! I had half the place looking for you—"

She seems to notice the four of them lurking awkwardly in the background, just then, and gives him a stern look.

"You can't just keep bringing others back here, either."

"But they need help getting around, mama."

His eyes are still just shy of too-wide, and they're impossibly endearing, even to him. The she-cats eyes soften a bit, but she still nips at his ear a little in warning. Even as she does it her fur smooths out, seeming to realize that the young tom is safe and unharmed.

"Fine. Go take them to Daz and Saiph, then. But I want you back here right after, understood?"

Pike gives her a beaming smile, nodding quickly, and it's really hard to be angry at him, or even confused, when you see just how innocent he looks. He flicks his tail at them, still smiling, and leans up to touch noses with what has to be his mother, at this point, before he continues onward. The she-cat smiles at him, too, when he follows, and at the other three behind them.

"Is no one weirded out by the fact that everyone here seems way too nice?" Damon asks. "I mean, I know Scotch said there were a lot of nice cats if you knew where to look, but I didn't think it would happen this _quickly_."

If everything in Ghost's life hadn't been moving at an unrealistically fast place as of late, he would have thought the same thing. For now, he'll be content and accept the hand he's been dealt, because he'll take as many breaks as they can get.

The building is large, whatever is, and he really can't get the smell out of his nose, but Pike doesn't walk much longer. He seems to know where he's going, anyway, navigating through the tightest of spaces with ease, trotting down hallways and even going so far as to jump up and squeeze his way along narrow windowsills to avoid parts of the ground that seem unsafe.

He leaps onto another windowsill, but waves his tail down at the group, and Ghost stays put as Pike looks around, seemingly searching someone out.

"Saiph! Daz! You guys around?"

"What's up kiddo?"

Ghost nearly jumps a mile, looking upwards to see a she-cat above them, perched on a railing on the floor above him. Largely unconcerned with the height and her perilous position, she just stares down at them, ears pricked curiously.

"These cats need some help getting around. I thought you could help them."

She maneuvers down to their level in a series of leaps and jumps that Ghost can hardly keep track of, but soon enough she's on the ground in front of them, looking none the worse for wear. He's never seen someone like her before - her pelt is a soft cream but her muzzle, tail and paws a faded ginger. Even though she looks so different she looks largely unruffled, for a place like this.

"Wanna go find Daz for me? He shouldn't be far."

Pike skips off far too quickly, considering he was supposed to be getting back to his mother. If anyone's going to find who they're missing though, it'll probably be him.

"So you're Saiph?" Ghost asks.

"That would be me," she says. "You need help getting around? Not from around here, obviously, by the looks of you."

Ghost doesn't know what that's supposed to mean, exactly, but he gets it. Even though she doesn't look too formidable herself, there's something about her that you can just tell she belongs her, that she's used to navigating her way around these parts. Maybe there is an inherent difference, depending on where you come from. He's used to navigating the mountains and her the city thunderpaths.

"That's putting it lightly," he informs her. "We're just trying to find a friend of ours, and we think she might be here."

"When's the last time you saw her?"

He shares a look with Damon, who looks just as uneasy as he feels at the question. Chasing after someone you haven't seen for ten moons doesn't even sound intelligent to _him_ ; there's no way a stranger will understand the implications at all.

"A long time," he says by way of giving an exact number. "But she was ... persistent, to say the least."

"Don't gotta explain yourself to me," Saiph says. "I've been itching to get out of here anyway. We can take you through the whole city, if you really think she's here. Done it a million times."

"Just like that?" Darkwhisker asks. "You don't even know us."

"I don't know most of the cats that come through here, to be fair," she points out. "Not my job to ask deeply personal, invasive questions. I just do what's asked. Asking questions is exhausting."

"So, where are we going?" A voice shouts, and Ghost looks around to see Pike returning from where he had run off to, another tom following behind him. Daz, probably, and he shoves Pike off back the way they came before he can get a word in otherwise, no doubt back to his mother. Pike looks a little sad at being sent away quite so soon, but goes fairly easily, probably knowing just how much trouble he's already in and unwilling to make it any worse.

"You always ask me that like I know," Saiph complains. "And I never do."

Daz smiles and touches his nose to her ear, something clearly affectionate behind it all. In all the weirdness of this place, it's nice to see something so normal among it.

"So, we gonna get going?"

"Wait, we're leaving now?" Emberstrike asks incredulously. "We just got here. You still don't even know who we're really looking for."

"You say that like I'm supposed to recognize who you're looking for in the first place," Saiph says. "Besides, we're wasting daylight. We can get to the middle of the city by nightfall if we hurry up. Might as well start there."

Well, they're getting what they wanted. Perhaps a bit more unceremoniously than they expected to, but going into the heart of the city is much less daunting when they have cats who actually know what they're doing. They'll know the safest bits, what areas to avoid. _Who_ to avoid, if it comes that.

Hopefully it doesn't.

* * *

The sun is up longer than he expected it to be.

He's so used to being surrounded by mountains, to see the sun sink out of sight faster than he could watch it happen. Here the sun reflects back on them against the side of buildings, like the glassy surface of the lake except magnified a thousand times over. Saiph and Daz seem to know what they're doing, and despite not knowing them it gives him a heavy dose of reassurance.

They haven't found much, but Daz and Saiph at least know their names, now. A bit of where they come from. He knows the two of them are together, in return, which he expected anyway. It's still nice to know.

He falls back to walk alongside Daz, who seems content to watch the rest of the group, making sure nothing is at their back. Saiph is at the front, talking quietly to Emberstrike as they move through back alleys and along the lowest of the rooftops. Thankfully they're keeping away from the busiest thunderpaths and sections of the city, but the noise is still deafening, the puddles they step in filled with murky, foul water.

"You guys been doing this a long time?" He finally asks Daz as he navigates around yet another pile of rubbish, making sure to watch his paws.

"If our whole lives if a long time, then sure," he offers. He doesn't seem to mind the filthy ground as much. "Not much else to do, in a place like this, unless you plan on joining a gang."

"There lots of gangs around here?"

"Tons. One of them's probably watching us right now."

Ghost stares upward, at all the rooftops, eyes wide. That's not exactly reassuring, and frankly the last thing he needed to hear just when he was starting to relax again.

Daz laughs. "Sure are gullible, aren't you? _Relax_. There's a lot around here but most of them leave you alone if you do the same. Why do you think we live so close to the edge of the city? You don't bug them, they're fine."

"So have you always lived there? In the abattoir?" He's since learned that what he walked into is an abandoned slaughterhouse, which explains the smell, in the very least. According to the two of them, not even most enemies would venture in there without knowing what's in there first. It's one of the best places to live in this place that's available, and they can stay away from anyone dangerous.

"Course not. We used to live closer to here, actually. There were six of us then, though. Our other four friends left about six moons ago. Don't think they liked it here as much. Last time we saw them they said they were thinking about going up to the mountains. Haven't seen them since. Guess it's better up there than it is down here."

"Four of them?" He asks, and maybe it's a little too fast, because Daz looks at him strangely.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Just wondering. All six of you did this, showed others around?"

"Pretty much. We all seemed to have a nose for finding other cats, or things. Or knowing where to go. Most times, anyway."

It's a coincidence. That's what he's trying to tell himself, anyway. Just because they were getting stalked up on the mountains by four cats that Ripper once called messengers doesn't mean anything, because the world doesn't work like that. Not in such closely connected ways.

He blinks, and Darkwhisker is looking back at the two of them. _You okay?_ , he mouths, and Ghost nods before he can open his mouth again and say something worse.

"Saiph said we should stop here, before it gets much darker," Darkwhisker explains, and he can tell that there's something up, it's obvious in his eyes, but he chooses to keep his own mouth shut as well. Ghost looks around. There isn't much to this place, it's just a corner between two alley-ways, but there are stacks of boxes and the buildings are high enough that they'll be sheltered from the wind.

Daz separates from them, gliding seamlessly back to Saiph's side like he never left it.

"So what's up?" Darkwhisker asks quietly. Damon and Emberstrike come closer too, even though they don't know that anything is going on.

"I'll tell you once we get out of this place," he responds. "It's not worth it right now."

They still look concerned, and they have every right to be. All he can do now is find a mostly dry place to lay down, tucked away against the wall. They hunted earlier, and he's not hungry now, but he can feel his stomach churning, that familiar feeling of nervousness rising back up. Emberstrike settles by his side, Damon on the other, and he said he was feeling safer, so what's wrong with him?

Maybe it's because he's so used to things going wrong, in the past. To others betraying him, leaving him, turning his life into a wasteland.

"I don't trust them," he murmurs softly, and that sure doesn't make any sense, without giving the others any explanation, but they seem to accept it all the same. Maybe it's because he's supposed to be the leader, and they accept his word like they would any other cat they chose to follow.

"If you don't, then I don't either," Emberstrike says, like it's really all that simple. Like they move as one unit, think together, fight together. Trust the same cats and remain suspicious of others because that's what a Clan does, when it comes down to it.

And maybe it really is that simple, here and now.

* * *

I'll probably be updating sometime in the middle of the week because I won't be around next weekend, and I'll get bullied for not posting the mess that is the next chapter, so.

Also I had to edit this chapter twice because of reasons, but I think you guys have realized by now that if there are mistakes I can't even find the energy anymore.


	18. Lost and Found

Chapter Sixteen.

* * *

 **Lope - Twoleg Nest, Edge of the Skulk.**

* * *

He can't sleep.

But really, what else is new?

The wind had been blowing strong and frigid up the stairs, and he was finally coerced into coming further into the nest instead of taking up his usual spot, where he had a clear line of sight towards the door when he wasn't sleeping.

Like now, for instance. Except now he can't see anything at all except for the rest of the group, who appears to be asleep. The three apprentices in their usual pile, Scotch at their back. Stark and Nyla, it appears, have grown closer in the nearly five days it's been since the rest of the group left and now they sleep side by side, the kits curled into tight balls between their flanks.

Which leaves him, alone, in the corner.

Again, what else is new?

It's hard for him to really pinpoint why he's still here. He can't get more than a hundred feet away from the nest before he can feel Nyla's eyes on him, worrying, like she thinks if she loses sight of him he's just going to leave permanently. And alright, that's fair. He said he would stay for this duration, at least. Didn't exactly promise, because he got dragged into this without even really realizing it and still quite figure out why he didn't leave. Ghost asked him to stay, and that's all fine and dandy, but he still can't quite figure out why he did.

He thinks of Stark, and _Tawnypaw's right, you're just a big softie_ , and wants to bash his head into the floor.

He wills himself to fall asleep, to stop thinking about all of this and wake up in the morning and re-start the motions, but he can't. The wind's too loud.

And that's just great, because now he's blaming the wind for all the problems he has.

Across the room, Cricketpaw's pale green eyes snap open. He watches him for a long moment, eyes narrowed to slits, as the younger tom just sort of sits there, eyes wide in the darkness, and looking very clearly down the stairs. Where he, as previously mentioned, cannot see.

He waves his tail and Cricketpaw finally looks in his direction.

"I heard something," Cricketpaw whispers, and that's probably weird, because Cricketpaw doesn't even talk to him. He wouldn't start unless it was for a good reason. The thing is, Lope didn't hear anything. He was sitting here awake, after all, having one major existential crisis after another. If something was downstairs, he'd have heard it. Probably even before Cricketpaw did.

 _You sure?_ He mouths back. Not because he doesn't trust the young tom. That's totally not it. But because he would have heard _something_.

Cricketpaw hauls himself to his feet before he can even blink, separating himself from Tawnypaw, who mumbles in complaint. Lope gets up too, before Cricketpaw can accidentally launch himself down the stairs, and steps in his path.

"Stay here," he hisses. "I'll go make sure nothing's down there."

"What if there is?" He asks in a small voice. The fear in his eyes is something Lope's long since gotten used to, but it was always directed at him, not something unknown.

"Then _stay up here,_ " he insists. "And wake the others up."

Cricketpaw slinks back into the shadows, waiting. _Listening_. That's a start, in the very least.

So Lope turns towards the stairs, to investigate a noise he didn't even hear, and wonders absentmindedly why his body couldn't have just cut him a break and let him sleep when he wanted to.

He creeps down the stairs, dutifully avoiding the parts that make the most noise. He kept track of these things for a reason. Of all things though, he didn't expect Cricketpaw to send him on a weird mission down the stairs to check something out in the dead of night.

It's when he hits the bottom stair that he hears something.

It's a sort of odd, snuffling sound, the click of claws against the wooden floor of the nest as whatever it is rummages around. He can't see it from this angle, either, which means whatever it is must be behind the stairs. He glances over his shoulder, to Cricketpaw's pale eyes at the top of the stairs, and makes what he hopes is a _sorry, you were right face_ at him. Moments later there are blue eyes there too, Nyla, and he shakes his head at her.

 _Stay put_.

He slinks around the side of the stairs, and the noise stops. If it's a fox, or a badger, he's going to be the only one to fight it. It's too dangerous for anyone else to even try. Besides, it's not like he hasn't done it before. He can handle it.

What he cannot handle is coming face to face with a wolverine.

That's exactly what happens.

It's standing less than five feet from him, and at his approach it turns, staring him down with beady, black eyes and this is not the situation he wanted to end up in tonight.

"Alright, everyone for real stay upstairs!" And that's really the only thing he manages to get out before it attacks him.

He goes flying to the ground with a thud that drives every bit of breath right out of his body, which only serves to heighten the panic building up in his chest. This isn't a cat, who plans out moves in their head before they make them, who works with speed and finesse. This thing doesn't care that he can fight back because it knows it's stronger than him, and it's crackling with raw power and hunger and he's been reduced to nothing but prey.

There are inch long claws digging into his stomach. He should probably move.

He wriggles and struggles underneath it's bulky weight, digging his own claws into it's shoulders and torso, however unconcerned it seems at the fact. Someone upstairs is shouting, or maybe all of them, but he can't really make out any distinct words. He finally manages to scrabble free, getting an approximate two feet away before it lunges at him again, striking him in the shoulder, and he goes back to the ground.

What he does see, before he falls again, is another wolverine standing dead center in the doorway.

He has two thoughts. The first is that he's one hundred percent done for, and the second is that he can't let it get up the stairs.

Lope moves before the first one can flatten him to the ground again, springing towards the one eyeing the stairs. It's smaller than the first one, maybe a year old, but it's still a lot bigger than he is, and there are those familiar claws again, digging into his shoulders as he lands on top of it. In seconds the first wolverine is back on him, and there are claws raking down the full length of his back even as he holds the other one down. He can't help the howl of pain that escapes him, not when it feels like his back is being lit on fire, not when the one underneath him flings him off, claws smashing into the side of his head as he does so.

His ears are ringing, and there's blood dripping into his eyes, and he can hardly tell which way is up in the spinning darkness.

Jaws lock around one of his front legs, twisting so hard it feels like it's going to be ripped out of its socket, and that's by far enough to make him scream. He can't pull himself away, not when there are teeth fastened so deep in his leg that they're scraping against bone. There are another set of wide, heavy paws pushing down on his ribs and he goes down easily this time, like he's nothing more than a fly that's irritating them.

There are more teeth, flashing in his vision, too close to his throat, and he knew he was done for but he didn't think it would be this quick.

Something goes flying over his head.

Someone.

Stark.

The teeth in his leg disappear, and he cries out again, but they don't come back.

"Stormpaw, move!" That's Nyla's voice, and absolutely none of them listened to him about staying upstairs, did they? Scotch's ginger and white pelt flashes past him, and then Tawnypaw, and there are familiar eyes in the darkness but it does nothing to ease the terror he still barely feels, the pain and the blood and everything else almost overwhelming it.

The one is still holding onto him, and then it's teeth latch into his neck. It's growling, horrific noises that are drowning out pretty much everything else he could possibly be hearing. It's not fatal, but there's blood gushing out of his neck and splashing hot onto his chest.

It throws him into the wall.

Lope doesn't know what he expected. Not to be thrown away like he hardly existed, that's for sure. His head cracks into the wall when he hits it, like the world's really trying it's best to get rid of him, and he lands in a limp heap in the corner, head spinning, soaked in his own blood. He tries to get to his feet and finds out immediately that it's not an option, and probably won't be for the near future. His back legs won't hold him and he can hardly feel one of his front, the one that probably almost got ripped off.

He tries to blink the blood out of his eyes, but it doesn't do much. The smaller wolverine is gone. He doesn't know when that happened, or how. He can hardly see the other one, now that everyone else has turned their attention to it. It's writhing, snarling, under the combined wait of their bodies, desperately trying to tear itself free. It succeeds, finally, and the others spring away, still on the offensive, ready to attack. It runs, though, disappearing out the door with one last furious noise, practically tripping in its haste to get away.

Cricketpaw is shouting something, distantly. Upstairs, still, with the kits. Five figures in front of him, wobbly, but he figures that's his own vision. They're all alive. So is he.

 _Probably about to get destroyed by bloodloss though_ , his brain supplies him with, and he can't even raise enough energy to be concerned. He closes his eyes.

"Oh, please tell me he's not dead. He's not dead, is he?"

That's Tawnypaw. He thinks, anyway. His brain has lost the ability to really distinguish who it actually is. A nose presses carefully into his shoulder, and that alone hurts. It might be Stark, it might be Nyla, but there's no way he's gonna stick around long enough to find out. If he could open his eyes again, it'd be helpful, but it seems that he can't.

"Lope, it's okay. You're okay."

He's really, _really_ not okay.

"I think I'm gonna pass out," he manages, his voice coming out as nothing but a hoarse croak, and he lets himself go.

* * *

 **Darkwhisker - Middle of the City.**

* * *

They've searched for two days.

Darkwhisker's not the typical definition of pessimist. Really, he isn't. After two days, though, it can get kind of repetitive. Not boring, because nothing here seems to be of that sort, but they've started to wander around almost aimlessly. Even Saiph and Daz seem to be almost at a loss. They've checked most of the places that cats could seemingly survive, and come up with nothing.

He's never going to say it out-loud. Not to Ghost, not to Damon.

He just doesn't know if Honeyclaw is really here.

There's still a lingering, nagging doubt in the back of his mind, though. That he should have faith. If Honeyclaw really is anything like his sister, and he knows his sister would never give up, then maybe she hasn't either.

It's just one more piece of the puzzle that Darkwhisker knows they need to find.

"We should probably bunker down for the night," Saiph informs them. It's starting to rain, an icy cold drizzle that sends shivers down his spine. It doesn't really matter to him, though. He'd rather keep moving, keep looking, than sit in yet another unfamiliar spot for an entire night, only managing to get a few minutes of sleep. He's used to the sounds of the forest, even the quiet, subdued ones of twoleg place at night. Not this.

"You okay, bro?"

He blinks at Emberstrike. "As okay as okay can be, right about now."

"Yeah, tell that to them," she says, nodding towards Ghost and Damon. "I think they're starting to lose it a bit too."

"Can you blame them? I mean, they're trying to re-build a Clan, which they can do, but it'd sure be a lot easier if they could find members of the old one first. They can't put all this on just their shoulders."

They can sure try, though. It looks like Ghost is at least making a very valiant effort to take the largest burden, so the rest of them don't have to. It doesn't really make sense in his eyes. According to him, a Clan is about building each other up, sharing the load, helping each other in difficult times. A Clan doesn't work without that sort of unity. It's like Ghost has forgotten what it's like to be in one, and Darkwhisker can't say he's surprised.

"Hunting first?" Emberstrike calls out, and everyone else nods in agreement. She nudges him in the shoulder until he starts to move, which clearly means they're going together.

Their only established rule is not to stray too far, whether they find prey or not. They can always make do and share if someone doesn't come back with anything. All they've managed to find thus far is mice and rats, sometimes scrawny pigeons and sparrows. There isn't much else to be found, unless they want to eat bugs.

"You think they're gonna be okay?" He asks, and his sister shrugs.

"They don't really have a choice, do they?" She questions. "I mean, either we find her or we don't. If we don't, we head back to The Skulk and move on."

"You wouldn't be disappointed?"

"Of course I'd be disappointed. Coming here for nothing, getting their hopes up, but that's just how the world works sometimes."

He thinks that the whole Clan business has made his sister take a step back and look at the bigger picture. It's still weird to think of her as Emberstrike and not Ari, to say it out-loud. No doubt it's the same for her as well.

There's a she-cat sitting in the next alley-way over, perched up on the side of a building next to a broken window. She waves her tail at them as they pass. It's weird - though maybe it was just him assuming everyone here would be awful, because of the place. All of the cats they've seen and no one's attacked them or caused them any trouble. It's not like they've accomplished anything either, but he's more than happy to accept a medium.

"There's nothing here," Emberstrike sighs. "I can't even smell anything. How does anyone live here?"

He turns, about to ask the she-cat they had just passed if there was any prey around, except she's leaped off the sill and is now on the ground, staring at him. Eyes wide, confused.

"Can I help you?" He asks, a little harsh despite himself.

There's nothing hostile about her. She's smaller than both of them, younger too.

"I don't know you," she says, a little mystified. "Right?"

Darkwhisker shakes his head. He's never seen her in his life, and Emberstrike shakes hers as well. She's as unfamiliar as everyone else they've seen here.

"Then why do you—"

"Ivysplash?"

He watches as Damon enters the alley after them, voice a little shocked, staring at this stranger with what is undoubtedly one of the most hopeful looks he's ever seen. It's a lot like when he saw Ghost again, for the first time in ten moons, and that's why this makes sense.

"Is this really happening?" She laughs, a little breathless, turning to Damon. "You're really here right now?"

"I'm gonna go get the others," Emberstrike murmurs, and she takes off before he can get a word in otherwise. Past Damon and _Ivysplash_ and that's not a name he recognizes but it wasn't up to him to recognize it in the first place. Clearly, Damon recognizes her, and that's enough.

"Penny!" Ivysplash, or whoever she chooses to be now shouts. "Penny, get out here, I'm _serious_!"

After a moment another she-cat appears in the window, looking a little put out at being disturbed, and the puzzle piece falls into place. Long-legged, muscular, golden-brown fur and amber eyes sharp against the reflective twoleg lights along the thunderpath.

Honeyclaw.

Not Honeyclaw, though - Penny, if that's what she's called now. But there's no question in his mind that it's her.

"I'm dreaming," she says flatly. Her eyes are deceptively calm, and he can only tell what she's really thinking because it looks so much like himself, in the most hazardous of times. Underneath that outside shell there's some sort of storm brewing, some amount of shock that even she wasn't expecting to feel. But he watches regardless as she leaps down to the ground, blinking, like she's still not quite sure of what she's seeing. Damon just looks so hopeful, so bright, that it's not a far stretch for her to think she's imagining it.

The group of them standing there, though, is no mirage.

Penny laughs, a little sharp, something almost hysterical behind it. She steps forward until her and Damon are nearly nose to nose, and she can't stop laughing.

"Should've known a scrawny little runt like you would've survived."

That shatters the nervousness immediately, and Damon leans forward to press his head into his shoulder, purring. He doesn't know all that much - knows they were apprentices together, for a brief time, until she became a warrior. That Damon never had any siblings and Honeyclaw's sister was a medicine cat apprentice, never around that much. They had formed up instantly, been something of a duo, because it was easier to have each other than try to force yourself into another group.

Darkwhisker thinks everything's going well. Think it's going to be fine, now, and they can go _home_.

Ghost walks around the corner.

Everything is decidedly not fine.

Ivysplash gasps at the sight of him, seemingly not even questioning Daz and Saiph behind him, nor his sister's wild return. But it's Penny who he really pays attention to. Her relaxed form, the softness in her eyes, all of those things disappear, and it's to a place he's never heard of. It's not the type of look you'd expect to see someone have on their face after ten moons; iciness in the eyes, her smile falling to the ground in pieces.

Ghost, for his part, seems like he's having difficulty breathing. No doubt Emberstrike told him what was going on and got him to run here as fast as he possibly could, but it's not just that. They expected to find Honeyclaw. Not two of them. Especially not _together_.

"Are you _serious_?" She spits out, and Ghost doesn't recoil but he looks pretty close to it. "Of everyone that survived, it just had to be _you_."

There's a maniacal side to her laugh, now, and Ivysplash steps to her side, looking concerned.

"Penny, it's—"

"Don't you dare try and tell me it's okay. Him being here is not okay," she hisses.

"What is going on?" he murmurs helplessly under his breath, and Damon turns to him with a panicked look.

"Ivyplash, can you explain what's happening right now?" Damon pleads, but Ivysplash doesn't look much better, seemingly lost for an explanation as well.

"It's not Ivysplash, anymore, it's—"

Penny steps up to Ghost in almost the exact same way she did with Damon, but it's so much different. He can see the hostility, now, see the tenseness in her muscles and how it looks far too much like a cat about to spring on their enemy, like Lope just before he killed that tom in The Skulk. She wouldn't. Would she?

"What, killing two Clans wasn't enough for you?" she taunts. "You just had to come back and finish the rest of us off?"

"—Flora," she finishes weakly, and that's about the biggest breakthrough they've made in the past few minutes. At least he has a name to refer to her by now, instead of Ivysplash, the cat she left behind. Somehow, finding Flora and Penny and all the things that have come with it, has seemingly just made things worse. Clearly, judging by the reactions of everyone around them, no one has the faintest clue what's going on, save for Penny and Ghost. Ghost, who looks undeniably guilty, not even moving to defend himself, and what is that all about?

Emberstrike sends him a concerned glance from where she stands by his side, but there's nothing she can do. Nothing any of them can do.

"Penny, _c'mon_ ," Flora insists. "We don't need to do this right now, I'm telling you, it's fine, we'll sort this out."

Penny doesn't move.

"Don't start something we both know you can't finish."

Penny finally moves to look at her, and the anger is still there, but it's not directed at Flora. He doesn't think that look's ever been directed at Flora in their life, from what he can tell. They seem close, closer than what cats from different Clans usually would be, but maybe that's the past ten moons. That length of time will change cats after everything that happened. And who is he to judge, when he really didn't know those Clans at all?

"We'll go inside," Flora murmurs softly. "We'll wake up Rowan. We'll talk about this, and we'll figure it out."

"Rowan's already awake!" A voice calls, back up from the window. There's a ginger tom there now, green eyes curious, if anything, completely unperturbed from apparently being woken up. "What's going on?"

No one answers. Judging by the look on Damon's face, it's no one he knows, which means Darkwhisker isn't supposed to know him either.

Daz and Saiph send each other a confused glance. Emberstrike stares up at the tom in the window, eyes narrowed, looking as amused as she could possibly be in this situation. Ghost is staring at the ground, which must be safer than looking back up at Penny, who's still only being held back by Flora.

"These friends of yours?" The tom calls out. He must be Rowan. "I didn't know Penny was capable of making that many friends."

Penny sighs under her breath. "I want to wake up now. Please, someone wake me up."

Right now, that's about the only sentence that sounds viable to him.

* * *

I didn't plan on updating until like Wednesday or Thursday but I got tempted and Wolfy told me to do it so. Here we are.


	19. Precipice

Chapter Seventeen.

* * *

 **Ghost - Twoleg Building, Middle of the City.**

* * *

The thing is, Penny's right.

It's almost like that night with Ripper, all over again. Him saying that he can't just put things back together like the way they were before. And he wants it to be, but standing here just then, with Penny hurling accusations in his face, it doesn't seem plausible.

That lingering doubt has always been there, in the back of his mind, but this is the first time he seems ready to admit out-loud everything that went wrong. Everything that's his fault, everything he allowed to happen. Somehow, Penny _knows_. It's like all his nightmares come true, where his lost Clanmates hate him for everything he didn't do in the past, for not saving them, for not stopping it.

First Ripper, and now her. He only dares to wonder how many more cats in his life can hate him before he drives himself insane.

It takes a while for Flora to herd her back inside and through the window, by-passing the tom who must be Rowan in the window. Penny's fur is still bristling, the lines of her shoulders coiled. She's angry, and he's seen her angry before even when she was younger but this is so much worse.

Now it's directed at him.

There's no way he can say it isn't justified. The worst part is, he doesn't know how she knows. Surely he'd be at some fault no matter who accused him, but this is different. This is a sign that she knows, really knows, and there is nothing that will hold her back from putting all of the blame on him.

As it should be.

Penny and Flora disappear from sight, but he can still see eyes peering down at them, waiting. He's supposed to go in there and act like everything's okay now, that they can talk this through and work everything out. Does Flora even know herself? Judging by the confusion in her own eyes at Penny's outburst, probably not. Flora was always less judgmental though, even when he saw her at gatherings. A sweet-tempered, easy-going apprentice, an even kinder brand new warrior. She had been Penny's complete opposite, and yet here they were.

"Is everything alright?" Darkwhisker asks, and Emberstrike steps from his side to look directly at him, and that concern is almost too much.

Damon leaps up through the window, casting one last glance at him still down on the ground, and disappears into the building.

"Yeah," he manages. "Don't worry, it's fine."

"Don't give me that," Darkwhisker insists. "I'm not an idiot. And that's not an answer."

It's certainly not the answer they deserve, anyway. These cats, the ones who have chosen to surround him, they deserve to know what they're getting into. The kind of cat they're choosing to follow.

"It doesn't really matter how I feel right now, does it? We found her. Them, I guess. Didn't expect that."

"Of course it matters," Emberstrike says, almost softly, and that amount of concern is even weirder. "If there's something—"

"Sorry to interrupt," Saiph says, doing so with a surprising amount of tact. "But I don't really think we signed up for quite this amount of drama. No offense."

"None taken," Emberstrike responds. "To be fair, I don't think anyone did."

Even when he agreed to go through with all of this, he didn't expect this much to happen. A handful of cats, maybe, who were determined enough to go through with all of this and that was it. But he's already seen four cats he never expected to see again, and there are more out there. There's so much more out there than he believed.

It was stupid of him to expect that every reunion, every moment, would go perfectly. Seeing Ripper should have been enough to prove that.

"You guys can go," he says, turning to Saiph and Daz. "You've done enough for us."

"You sure you can get out of the city by yourself?" Daz asks.

"We'll work it out," he assures him. "Besides, hopefully when we leave this place we'll have a few more heads to help us get out of here. Thank you for everything. Really."

Again with his burning optimism. Before this moment, he'd have said they'd be leaving the city for certain with more cats than before. Now he's not so sure. He'll have to pull Penny from here by her claws, if things don't change from this moment. That or try and explain himself, but that might be the even harder option.

Daz waves his tail in farewell. "Good luck, then! Keep an eye out for our friends once you get back up there? Tell them we're thinking about them."

Daz knows, then. Daz knows more than he should, suspects that his own hesitation at the mention of the other four wasn't just hesitation at all. He nods, though, forces a smile. Darkwhisker stares at him.

"Who now?"

"You really don't wanna know," he mutters. And again, they probably should. But there are bigger matters right now.

They watch them leave, a sort of finality settling over him. They found what they came here to do.

Now comes the hard part.

He crosses over to the wall, convincing himself to be a leader. To stand up and just take it. He leaps on top of a dumpster and hauls himself up into the broken window next to the ginger tom, who's been standing there observing for what seems like almost the entire time.

"What's up?" He asks, smiling. "Name's Rowan."

Like he knows who they are. Like he somehow isn't completely perturbed by this all.

"Ghost," he answers. Unwilling to let this bit of generosity, no matter how strange, pass up. That's something he'll never take for granted, no matter the situation.

"Emberstrike," she announces from behind him, leaping onto the ledge. "And my brother Darkwhisker. And you're my long lost twin, apparently."

Rowan laughs. His ginger fur is a shade lighter than hers, his chest and paws snowy white, and even though he has green eyes and not amber they twinkle just the same, something mischievous in them.

"Well, come inside."

Ghost follows him into the darkness. The space isn't all that tall, just a few feet of head-space, dust motes spilling through the air across the few streams of light being let in. It looks a lot like where he was taken to talk about the Clans in the first place, except the floor is closed in and it smells familiar, like prey and warmth.

"Emberstrike and Darkwhisker eh?" Penny asks flatly, her eyes just the same. She looks to Damon. "What about you? You all grown up with a big fancy name too?"

"Not exactly," he responds, voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "Still same old Brackenpaw. Well, Damon now. But you know how it is."

"That I do," she says. "And the mighty Icestar returns, as nothing more than a Ghost."

No one really seems to know what to do, after that. Emberstrike looks like she wants to say something, if she knew what to say at all.

"Can we talk?" Is what he settles on.

Penny scoffs. "Really, what is there to talk about?"

" _Please_. Just for five minutes, that's all I ask. Me and you. Just hear me out."

Once again, it's Flora who whispers something in her ear. It's like that's the key to everything, what calms her in the middle of the storm. She stares at him, eyes hard, but swivels on her heels and waves her tail, indicating for him to follow.

"Thank you," he whispers to Flora as he passes, and she gives him a tight smile. Leaving is the easy part. Emberstrike and Darkwhisker, Damon, they'll be fine alone for a while. It's him who has the most difficult job, as selfish as it sounds. And he wishes he could give the job to someone else, but then it wouldn't get done. This is all on him, as most things seem to be. It's up to him to fix it.

If fixing it is even an option.

"Go ahead," Penny says without emotion. It's clear that she has nothing else to say, that whatever she feels she's gotten out already.

"I know I'm sorry doesn't cover this," he starts. "And I don't know what you know. But I never intended for any of this to happen. You have to know that. All of us scattering, so many of us dying. That wasn't the end, though. I thought it was. I thought I was the only one left. But I'm still me and you're still you, and there's more of us left than we thought."

"You abandoned us. Everyone who did survive, as you say, you left them all behind."

"And what were you doing out of camp that night?" He demands, suddenly angry. "Damon said it himself, you weren't there either. I left to get nine lives that I never even received. Where were you? Where were you when our entire Clan got taken?"

She laughs, low and bitter. Not surprised about his lives, as no one else has been so far. "Wow. You really are oblivious. It's astonishing."

"Then explain it to me!" He insists. "I don't know what's going on here. I don't know what you know, I don't know why you're here."

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" She hisses. "I wasn't in camp that night. Flora wasn't in SlopeClan's. And by the time we realized what was happening, by the time the fire got that close, there was no doing anything about it. It was either risk her life or get out of there. And I wasn't about to do it when there was no chance anyone else was even going to survive. I had already seen the camp for myself. That's what it looked like to me."

"Your sister's alive," he informs her. "So is hers. And you left both of them. Goldenleaf's a prisoner and Fawnstep is a traitor. If I left them then you did too. Don't put this all on me."

He sees the flash of surprise in her eyes, the hurt underneath. It's apparent that she was certain no one else was alive. If she had thought that, she would've looked. She would've found him or Damon sooner than they found her.

"How do you know that?"

"Because Frozenkit's alive too. And he told me. Goldenleaf, Badgerfang, Starlingpaw, Flintpaw. Fawnstep and Reedblaze too. They're all alive. Even if the majority of them are traitors that doesn't matter right now."

"It does matter," she insists. "You say this isn't just your fault. But you knew. Shadestrike told you what she was planning. I don't know why, but she did. I heard you two. She always thought she'd become deputy, when you were leading. And when you picked Jaytalon instead of her she lost it. She had already killed Sorrelstar, I heard that too. And you gave her the leverage to finish the rest of us off."

"If you knew," he says slowly. "Then why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Because the words coming from an apprentice made warrior half a moon ago would totally outweigh those of the deputy. Right. That's how that works."

She's right. She'd have spoken up, told the truth, and it would be her word against his. The word of an outspoken, rebellious brand new warrior against that of the deputy, of someone who would be on his way to becoming leader in a few days time.

No one would've believed her.

"She killed our _leader._ She killed nearly everyone," Penny forces out. It would be so much easier if she was just angry. But now she just sounds miserable, and he thinks of her stuck here for the past ten moons, haunted by the ghosts of everyone she thought she lost. Of everyone she _did_ lose. It doesn't matter that she has someone she very clearly loves here with her.

"How have you lived with yourself these past ten moons knowing you could've stopped it all?" She asks quietly, her voice cracking.

"I didn't want to," he responds. "Not in the slightest. You don't know how long I wished I was dead. At least you had _someone._ Lichenwhisker died three days after the Clans fell. That entire time I was alone, up until the past half moon."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" She asks. "What, you're creating a new Clan? Starting over?"

"I'm trying."

"And you should have realized by now that that doesn't just fix things."

He wishes he could smile. "Frozenkit said the same thing."

"Always knew he was smart," Penny says. "Takes after his father in that respect, doesn't he?"

The words he wants to say get stuck in his throat. Things like _yeah, I think he does_ , and _I sure hope he realizes that himself_. There's a solid chance that with all the things he's been through, Ripper doesn't have many memories of his father. Doesn't know what it's like to be like him. But Ghost can see some of his brother in his nephew, too much, and Penny doesn't need to ask to know that.

"Well," she continues. "Let's hope he survives longer, then."

He watches her leave, watches her go back to Flora, and wonders how the hole in his chest can feel bigger than it did before.

* * *

Later is when he's curled up into himself in a corner of the attic, trying not to appear too miserable.

He's done everything he can. Learned what happened to them. Imagined Penny and Flora's journey from their old territory to the city, where they met Rowan. Rowan, who's been one of the only friends they've held onto here, who kept them safe despite knowing who they were. They've been a trio for the past few moons, and it's clear that there's no way they'll separate, not now.

He tells them as much as possible. About MountainClan, and Tempest and Fable. About who's alive. He sees the shock on Flora's face when he mentions her sister, mentioned that she's turned to the opposite side. It's not far from the amount of betrayal he felt when he saw Tempest in SlopeClan's camp.

He knows Penny doesn't want to hear it, but Flora deserves to know about what he wants to do now. There's no mistaking that light that flares to life in her eyes when he brings up a new Clan, tells them about the group they left behind in The Skulk. He's come so far in such a short amount of time that she almost doesn't believe it at first, but he's lied about too much in the past to lie about things now.

The thing that surprises him the most, though, is Rowan. He seems to know everything about the Clans like it's second nature, and Ghost knows Rowan wouldn't have that information if he couldn't be trusted. Penny moves easier around him than she did most cats in ValleyClan, and that says volumes. Rowan talks to them all like nothing's wrong at all, and even if he doesn't know quite the amount of details he should, he's too sharp-eyed to miss anything. Maybe that's why Penny and Flora are so close to him.

But back to his previous predicament.

Everyone else is talking, smiling. For all his words he doesn't think there's any chance of Penny following him back up the mountains, not unless he changes something. Flora would, but she won't leave without her. They're so close it makes him feel a bit better, knowing they had each other.

He should be over there, talking with him. Instead he's decided to leave them alone, let them get to know each other. Maybe that will help. Maybe not.

Eventually Emberstrike wanders over, dropping herself beside him with a sigh. He gives her a quizzical look.

"I am exhausted," she announces, laying her head on her paws. "You know I don't mind talking but today was already tiring enough as is."

"So how is Darkwhisker doing, if you're already quitting?"

"I don't even think he's listening anymore," she surmises. "He's just sitting there pretending to. Probably asleep sitting up."

"But everything went well?" He asks cautiously.

"Yeah, of course. They're nice. Really nice. I like them. If Penny doesn't even want to talk to you I have no idea how she manages Rowan, though. The amount of jokes that guy makes, I swear."

Rowan didn't let something so disastrous happen that he can no longer be trusted. Rowan was born and raised here, helped two former Clan cats live and thrive here together, find a safe place to settle down. Penny can handle anything, if she tries hard enough. The difference is she doesn't want to handle him, and he's all too aware of the fact.

Emberstrike nudges him. "That was a _joke_. She'll come around."

"I don't know about that," he mutters, back to his previous train of thought. What will have to happen, for him to get them back up the mountain? There's no way he'll be able to force them, and he wouldn't want to. This whole thing won't work if he has to pull together a group of cats that doesn't want to be there. Even Lope, he didn't have to force him to stay.

"I just hope this wasn't all a mistake."

"Of course it wasn't," she insists. "We've already found more than we ever hoped to. I can already tell Flora wants to come back with us. You're underestimating the affect she has on Penny. Give it some time. Like I said, she'll come around."

All he can hope is that Emberstrike is right. That he'll go to sleep and everything will look better in the morning.

It's easier, knowing that he does have some people that will be coming back with him. No matter what.

* * *

The morning starts off right.

Or it seems to be headed in that direction, anyway. Penny is giving him a wide berth, but he can live with that at least. Damon and Rowan are already gone, off hunting, and Penny seemed unwilling to let him go off alone. She's quite close to heading off with Emberstrike and Darkwhisker, which leaves him with Flora.

"I was gonna ask you to come with me anyway," she smiles. "Thought we could talk too."

What he's prepared for is the absolute worst. It's not a stretch to image that Flora knows everything Penny does. For a while, though, it's just easy silence. She points out places she's familiar with with her tail, shows him where the best places to hunt are. He thought it would be weird, traveling around without the others, but he supposes there's nothing in Flora that would allow her to make anyone feel uncomfortable. Not now, not before.

"Thought you'd be taking a turn in yelling at me too," he half-jokes, ducking his head a bit, and she sighs.

"I'm aware we don't really know each other," she tells him. "But you have to know I'm not like that."

"I know. You were probably the nicest apprentice I'd ever met. Besides Damon, most others have been having a go at me, so. Figured if you wanted to you might as well."

"Whatever happened in the past, it doesn't matter," she says. "It's over, it's done with. What matters is that you told me last night that my sister's alive. Reedblaze too. And they're not Penny, but they're Clanmates. Family. I thought I'd lost all that."

"So you think there's still a chance?" He asks. "Of getting them back."

She smiles grimly. It's an odd look for her. "Of course. For all we knew they only went to Fable's side because they didn't think there was another option. From what you said about Ripper, that's what it sounds like to me."

What he could never describe, not to anyone, was the look in Ripper's eyes. The stony, frigid anger. The complete and total lack of forgiveness. He may have went to Fable's side to survive, but has he ever tried to leave? He sure didn't look eager to drop everything and run back to their side when he realized he was alive. There's a mate and kits to factor into all of this, but he still showed no signs of running.

But what is he supposed to do? Crush Flora's hopes for a future?

"So you think there's another option?" He asks instead. "You think we can really build a Clan from nothing?"

"Well you don't have nothing anymore, do you?"

He supposes not. He has Emberstrike and Darkwhisker, and three apprentices back home who are more than willing to learn, with a father figure who will never separate from them. He knows Damon will never leave, and he's hoping Stark and her kits won't either. There's still a constant, nagging worry in the back of his mind every time he thinks about Lope, though. There's no reason for him to worry about the other tom, not when he can so clearly take care of himself, but he wants him to stay. That's the worst part. He has absolutely no reason to trust him and wants him to stay anyway.

"I think we're as far from nothing as we could get," he replies, and she smiles.

"And now you have us, so that's even better?"

He looks at her, almost confused. It's like he said - he always thought Flora would want to come back, but Penny is a different story entirely. They would have to uproot this life that they fought so hard to even find in the first place, leave the only place that's been familiar since the Clans fell.

"I know what you're thinking," she continues. "But just let me talk to her. I know she wants her life back, in whatever form she can. We're still Clan cats, despite all of this. I always wondered if it was possible to have a life with her, back in the Clans. I know we weren't exactly enemies but I still don't think anyone would've taken kindly to the idea. But now we can have that. Have _all_ of it."

He remembers Flora as a brand new warrior, attending exactly one gathering with a new name before almost her entire Clan was lost. And she's right, he didn't really know her. While she's still the same optimistic, easy-going cat from before she seems to have a new air about her. Something calm, mature. Willing.

Maybe that's why he feels so comfortable walking by her side, as they return to the attic, prey hanging from their jaws. The sun is high in the sky, burning hot against the fur on his back. He doesn't want to allow himself to hope, but he thinks that maybe Flora is right. Maybe only her words will be enough.

Emberstrike and Darkwhisker are crouched together in a patch of sunlight below the window when they get back. They both wave their tails in greeting. Penny isn't far away, nosing through their own pile of prey. Flora trots up to her, touching their muzzles together, their tails twining together like they've done it a hundred times. He almost doesn't want to make them leave.

He lets himself relax. Lets himself watch those he already knows he cares about, and dares to wonder about the future, wondering if it will ever just be simple.

Maybe it will. Maybe, one day.

Definitely not today, though.

Because by the time the sun sinks below the horizon, Damon and Rowan are still gone.

* * *

Because nothing can be happy ever, apparently. That's the real reason.


	20. Broken Streets

Chapter Eighteen.

* * *

 **Tawnypaw - Twoleg Nest, Edge of the Skulk.**

* * *

It still smells like blood.

She can't get the scent out of her nose. It shouldn't be affecting her this much, but it's there when she goes to sleep and still present when she wakes. It's all over the floor downstairs and there's a smear of it on the wall that she stares at every time she comes back inside.

There's also the issue of having to look at Lope all the time, wondering if the next time she looks he'll be dead. She doesn't really like thinking about that.

It's been a day and a half since it happened. About 30-odd hours since she finally quelled the panic, since her and her brothers stopped rushing around looking for any of the herbs Cricketpaw could remember being used on him. Digging cobwebs out of the corner of the room because Nyla wouldn't let them go any deeper into the woods in the dark. Not when those things could still be out here.

Lope's been unconscious for most of it. A blessing in disguise, really. Even swathed in cobwebs he doesn't look good. Which, of course, means she just can't bring herself to not look.

Her brothers are outside in the sun, and Nyla's keeping watch, and she knows Stark and Scotch are off hunting. She couldn't leave the kits alone, and she definitely can't leave Lope alone, and she's too afraid to go downstairs and ask for some company. The second she leaves something will happen, she just knows it, and she's not eager to find out what that something is.

Of course, that's when Lope stirs. And she does her best not to completely panic.

He wakes slowly, painfully. Aspen and Flicka, playing in the corner, both freeze, eyes darting to him. Even they've recognized just how bad the situation is.

"Don't move too much," she orders instantly, rising to her paws. No matter how injured he is, Lope has still proven that he has the ability of a newborn when it comes to listening. He tries, for a long moment to even shift himself into a more comfortable position when there isn't one.

"Stop," she insists again, and Lope finally falls still, wincing.

"Taking orders from you is a new low," he forces out, and the pain in his voice is enough to make her realize that he only stopped because he couldn't keep going. Not because she told him to.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I got ran down in the middle of the thunderpath and hit by a twoleg monster. Twice."

Aspen and Flicka have stopped rolling around and are now sitting quietly in the corner, watching. She doesn't really know what to say to that, either. That she's sorry? She is, but he has to know that. Arguably, he saved them from the worst of it. It could've been her getting thrown around, or Stormpaw.

"Someone should be back soon with some prey, if you—"

"I'm fine, kid. Stop worrying."

She's still worrying.

"Seriously, you should eat something."

Lope musters his best glare but it tapers off quickly into a grimace as he pulls at the gouges on his cheek. She watches his resolve crumble into dust as he lowers his head back to the ground. She waits.

"I wouldn't mind some water."

" _Thank you_ ," she mutters. "That I can do. I'll be right back."

He can handle being alone for five minutes, especially awake as he is, so Tawnypaw sets off at a trot down the stairs. There's moss right next to the nest, and a brook trickling through the trees not far into the forest. Nyla's sitting on the front stoop in her normal spot, and Stormpaw and Cricketpaw are one mass blend of gray fur in the grass at her feet, soaking in the sun. They're all tired after the past few days.

"Just going to get some water," she informs Nyla, and the other she-cat nods. They've all been more careful now, rarely heading off on their own. She'll only be gone a minute, though, and she's been paying extra attention. To what she hears, to the broken undergrowth. Nothing is going to sneak up on them again.

She takes a chunk of moss to the stream and soaks it as much as she can before picking it up, heading back through the trees. Everyone is still sitting where she left them, but Stormpaw sits up as she approaches.

"Is he alright?"

"No," she says flatly, trying not to snap. "He's obviously not."

Cricketpaw flattens his ears at the tone of her voice, and she instantly feels bad, but she's just upset. Not at herself, but at all of this. The entire situation. It shouldn't have happened at all.

Nyla steps in front of her before she can get back in the nest. "Everything alright with _you_?"

"No," she says again, but this time her voice shakes before she can stop it, and she drops the moss at her feet. "This shouldn't have happened. Isn't the point of a Clan to protect each other?"

"Listen," Nyla says gently. "What happened was far from the ideal scenario. But Lope's alive. We're not letting him go anywhere. And we are going to be alright. All of us."

"What if someone dies?"

"No one's going to die," she insists. "You're right. What happened to Lope shouldn't have happened at all. It happened, though, and we're dealing with it. It won't happen again. We've learned from this. Haven't you?"

Tawnypaw sighs. What she's learned is that Lope almost died for them without making the decision if he was ready to do that or not. Sure, the few minutes he gave them allowed them time to come up with a plan. One that _worked_. That thought alone still won't help her sleep at night.

How quickly the idea of this Clan changed. From teaching her to fight and hunt properly to wondering every second what could go wrong.

"Go bring him that water," Nyla murmurs quietly, touching her nose to the crown of her head. Tawnypaw nods weakly, scooping the moss up from the porch, and trots inside before she can feel any worse.

Lope's eyes are closed when she crests the top of the stairs, but he blinks at her when she comes back. He doesn't say anything, but she can see the gratefulness in his eyes as he drinks. _Progress_ , she thinks, but it sounds too much like when Stark said it after they dragged Lope's limp body up the stairs after they had managed to stop the bleeding. Like she said, it doesn't help her sleep at night.

"Need anything else?"

"Nah, it's alright. Just go back to sleep. I know you're tired from yesterday."

Lope was out for most of yesterday while she was off outside with almost everyone else, trying to clear her head and forget about everything. She wonders if Stark told him. She wonders how much they even talked, if he was unconscious for that long.

Tawnypaw resumes her spot in the corner, shifting until she gets comfortable. Now that she's wide awake, though, she doesn't sense sleep returning any time soon. It's because Lope isn't sleeping either, and even if he's silent every time he moves by some miracle, she still feels the urge to make sure he isn't hurting himself.

One of the kits squeaks, and she opens her eyes. They're still so small and fluffy it's hard to even tell them apart sometimes - but it's very clearly Aspen who is toddling her way over to Lope's side.

"Hey," she calls softly. "Stay put."

Aspen is not deterred by this in the slightest. Somehow, that's not the least bit surprising.

When she gets within an inch of him, Lope cracks his eyes open. Stares.

"What do you want?" He asks, but there's no malice in his voice. Aspen is so tiny a strong gust of wind could knock her over. Tawnypaw rises to her feet, intent on grabbing the kit and putting her back in the corner where her sister is still sitting, wide-eyed. Lope makes a face at her, though, and doesn't look concerned in the slightest. She stays put herself.

Aspen continues staring at him, and he at her. For the most part, the kits have stayed away from Lope. She can't say she blames them. He may have been working on his personality, but he can't change what he appears like on the outside. She's gotten used to it, but they definitely haven't. Not until now, anyway. The kit doesn't leave. What she does do is pad carefully to his side and plop down in a fluffy pile next to his flank, closes her eyes, and promptly falls asleep.

Now it's her turn to stare.

Lope twists his head to look at the kit, fast sleep against him like she could care less.

"I'll get her," Tawnypaw sighs, ready to move again.

"It's fine. I thought I told you to go to sleep."

Tawnypaw settles herself back on the ground with a harsh thud, confused and not tired in the slightest. Lope closes his eyes and lays his head back down. He really doesn't look bothered at all, and that is surprising. In fact, he almost looks embarrassed, actually.

It doesn't take long for Flicka to wander over. She's a bit more cautious than her bolder sister, slinking over carefully. Even she deems it safe after a moment though, and she curls up carefully next to her sister, right up against Lope's side. Every time he breathes they're both moved the slightest bit, and yet they show no indication of waking any time soon.

She closes her own eyes after a while. She won't sleep, but knows relaxing will do her good. What she needs to do is learn to stop blaming herself and all the rest of them for what happened. Nyla's right. They're going to be alright. Maybe not today, but soon.

The stairs creak before she recognizes someone coming up the stairs, so maybe she was more exhausted than she thought. Stark appears, carrying a mouthful of prey. Her eyes land on her two kits, sleeping soundly against Lope's side.

She gives Tawnypaw a questioning look, and all she can do is shrug helplessly. There's no real explanation for what's been happening lately, and this is no exception.

Stark smiles, though, and shakes her head. She crosses over and touches her nose carefully to Tawnypaw's ear, still smiling. It's weird, having someone look out for them that isn't Scotch. Nyla, Stark ... all of them, really. She's always wondered what having a mother is really like. She guesses this is the closest she'll ever get.

"Thank you for watching them," she murmurs, and Tawnypaw nods, a little overwhelmed by the feeling.

She gets the feeling she's not just talking about the kits, though.

* * *

 **Flora - Middle of the City.**

* * *

"This is ridiculous. Where could they possibly be?"

"Calm down," she murmurs softly, and Penny's head swivels around. If anyone else had told her to calm down, she'd have clawed their eyes out. And that's if they were lucky. Flora knows that. Everyone knows that.

"We'll find them," she says for the tenth time. She's managing to convince no one but herself of that at this point. They've been looking for hours. No sign of Rowan, no sign of Damon. No sign of anything, really, which wasn't helping at all. There's only so many other places they could look. The two of them couldn't have gotten that far in such a short amount of time, not unless they were taken somewhere.

It's a thought she wasn't quite ready to venture towards. Not yet, anyway.

She knows Penny is thinking the same thing.

They know things about this city. Living here for eight moons teaches you things, whether you want to learn them or not. There are dangers here, ones that they've managed to avoid thus far. But she's always known they were there, ready to rip something away whenever they pleased.

They search for another hour. The sky starts to darken. At the same time, she knows they can't stop looking. If bad things happen during this city during the day, then worse things happen at night. Rowan's lived here his entire life, and Damon survived nearly ten moons on his own. They're both stronger than they look. That still doesn't mean that she's anywhere near willing to leave them out here. Wherever they may be.

She hardly notices she's trickling to a halt until Ghost nearly bumps into her, blinking in surprise. Penny, who had been leading the way up until this point turns to look at her as well, something equally resigned in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Darkwhisker asks, noting the similar look in both of their eyes.

"Well, nothing yet," Penny says flatly. "But I have a pretty good idea of where they ended up. They were already heading that direction anyway. I just thought Rowan was smart enough not to stray too close."

"Not if they got ambushed," she points out. "Not if someone recognized him."

"Alright, what are you talking about?" Emberstrike insists. "What's going on that we don't know about?"

It's odd, how quiet Ghost has gotten. Since their conversation earlier, he hasn't said much. She knows it has a lot to do with whatever Penny said to him, a conversation neither of them seem eager to bring up again. She only wishes she could help more.

"There's a reason none of us head into the heart of the city itself," Penny explains. "That part is run by someone else entirely. Much bigger than any Clan ever was. The Guild, the Broken Street Cats, whatever you want to call them, they don't really care. They've been there for years. That's just how it is."

"Alright, but why would someone recognize Rowan?"

"Because that's where he was from," Flora says quietly. "And they never take kindly to deserters."

No one seems to know how to respond to that. When she first learned of the Guild herself, even she was surprised. Learning that Rowan was one of them, was raised to be this up and coming brawler in the dirtiest back alleys of the city, it was unsettling. Then again, Penny wouldn't have ever taken to him if he wasn't capable of kicking someone into next week. It's just that he's always been too nice to actually do it.

"Alright," Penny announces. "Screw it. I'm just going to walk up to their border and fight someone until they tell me where they are."

"That cannot possibly be smart," Ghost says incredulously, finally speaking up.

"Oh, we're really gonna talk about what's smart now?" Penny fires back, already turning to head away. "Nice attempt. Please try again."

He shakes his head, sighing, eyes downcast back to the ground. Where they've been most of the day, if she's being honest with herself. She's starting to get used to him refusing to look her in the eye, Penny even more so. She can't focus on that now though, not when she practically has to chase after Penny just to avoid losing track of her. The others follow too, because they have no other choice. They have to do _something_ , even if it isn't smart. They can't just leave them out here, alone, to fend for themselves against a group the size of a full-fledged army.

Besides, they know the sign of a border when they see one. The scents go from jumbled to clear as day at a single line of fencing. The entrance has always been there, a torn hole between two posts, ragged and hardly big enough for two cats to fit through side by side.

The second someone crosses through that gap they're done for. No doubt there are eyes on them already, just waiting to pounce the second someone makes the move.

"They might not have them," she whispers. "We don't know that for sure."

"Yeah we do," Penny says evenly. "Even if something happened to one of them the other would have come back. That means something happened to both of them, so they're either here, or—"

"Or they're dead," Emberstrike says. The words no one wanted to say. The words that, StarClan willing, aren't true. All of this can't be for nothing. They didn't fight so hard for these past ten moons of survival just to end up here, at a dead end, with no other way to get out.

She still wants her home back. A Clan. A place she was always meant to be. She wants to be able to walk around with her name again, without fear of someone asking questions. She wants to be able to curl up next to Penny in the warriors den after a long day of hunting and patrolling, put actions to the things she's told Rowan so much about. There's still some convincing to do, but she's certain Penny's already beginning to cave, that careful wall she spent so many moons building up crumbling down at the mention of what still exists.

 _Not just Goldenleaf. Your sister, too._

There's too much left for this to be their end.

"Alright, well here goes nothing," Emberstrike says without warning, and before anyone can tell her otherwise, she's shoving her way through the gap. There's such a complete and total lack of fear in her eyes that Flora would find it unnerving, if she hadn't been around Penny for so long.

Speaking of, Penny is right at her heels, and then Ghost, and soon she's left alone on the other side of the fence, Darkwhisker sighing behind her.

"Great," he mutters, turning to look at her. "Me or you?"

"Me," she says reluctantly, struggling to try and hide her own sense of fear, no matter how small. A long time ago she would have believed that there was strength in numbers. That only matters, though, when your numbers are bigger than your enemy's. And right now they're about to be dwarfed in comparison to what they're walking into, individual strength be damned.

By the time she wiggles through, Darkwhisker just behind her, someone is already leaping down from high on the rooftops, landing without a sound on the harsh pavement. Emberstrike, who is still further in than anybody else, comes to a halt. Still that lack of fear, though. It's commendable.

Soon enough there are two more toms behind the first. It's still the first one that has a leering smile on his face, growing bolder by the minute.

"Oh great," Penny grumbles. "More toms. Just what I wanted in my life."

Darkwhisker chokes.

"Ladies!" The lead tom crows. "And gentlemen, I guess. It appears you've crossed a very important border."

"We'd noticed," Emberstrike says back, smiling, and the tom's face falters. The two behind him still haven't made a move, but it appears as if at least one of them is growing bolder, looking closer and closer to stepping forward as well.

"You got something wrong with your head?" He asks, and he takes a few steps closer, until they're nearly nose to nose.

Penny moves then, too, until she and Emberstrike are side by side. "Do you have something for taking our friends?"

"Don't know what you're talking about." That's one of the other toms, the pale ginger one, stepping forward to his friend's side. His smile may be confident, but his eyes are enough to betray him. He's a blatant liar, knows something they don't, and is only so confident because this is his territory and not theirs. Ghost turns his head to her, and she can see out of the corner of her eye that this is unfamiliar territory.

Literally.

"God, you two are idiots," the third tom calls, the one who had been uninterested thus far. "I'm going to get Xavier. I hope you're both dead by the time I get back."

"The feeling's mutual, Griffin!" The lead tom calls out, laughing a little bit. "Hate that guy. Too nice for his own good."

"Back to our friends," Penny hisses.

"Or," he suggests, and he leans forward to brush his tail over her shoulder, and then Emberstrike's. "We could just stay here."

Flora can't even begin to comprehend how wrong of a move that was. Emberstrike looks like she's about two seconds from ripping his throat out. Penny looks like she's already there. And it has to be bad, because now both Ghost and Darkwhisker look like they're about to shove their way in-between the two opposite sides. Penny will probably bite Ghost's tail off for intervening, but that's how much the situation has escalated, apparently.

Someone's going to make a move.

Someone has to.

"Bryce, chill!"

The third tom, Griffin, is already back, and behind him there's a handsome silver tom. That's who the voice belonged to. And it's clear that this must be the cat he went to get, Xavier. Whoever he is, there's an air of respect in the air that wasn't there before. It's him who steps in and quite literally shoves the lead tom, Bryce, a good three feet away.

"Seriously, scram," Xavier says. "What are you, an infant?"

"Just protecting our borders."

"Yeah, I see that. Great job. Now go away."

Bryce does, slinking past them. He's still got that leering, crooked smile on his face, but it's clear that he knows he's lost. Just for today, though. There's nothing to suggest he won't keep up the act tomorrow.

"You too, Zane!" Xavier calls, locking eyes with the second tom. He had been growing bolder, until now. Now his ears flatten to his head, looking nervous. "Why are you even here?"

In seconds Zane is taking off after Bryce without so much as sparing them another glance. Griffin, who's job is now apparently done, disappears behind the nearest building, presumably resuming his post back up on the roof. That leaves them alone with Xavier, who finally seems to really notice them, a bemused look in his eyes. Flora can't help but feel like she's being examined too closely, but there's none of the eeriness in his eyes that there was with Bryce.

"Griffin said you were looking for your friends?" He asks.

"Yes," Ghost says before anyone else can. This is when he excels. Negotiating, diplomacy. Most of the time anyway. "My friends here said you might have recognized one of them?"

"Yeah, Rowan," Xavier says simply. "But I can assure you, we didn't kidnap them. Either of them. Though you'll probably want to hear the story from them, not me. I'll take you to them. You're probably sick and tired of hearing from me already."

 _Not exactly_ , she wants to say. It's a welcome relief from Bryce, and Zane, and whoever else could be lurking out there. She doesn't even feel that uneasy, following Xavier with the rest of them. Until they hit the real heart of the city, anyway - a mess of alleyways and floodlights, and all of a sudden there's so many cats. So many pairs of eyes, all staring at them, like they're the only things worth looking at. Curious eyes, bold eyes, a few that look too much like Bryce for her liking.

"You the leader here?" Darkwhisker asks, and she blinks gratefully at the chance to focus on something else. Xavier doesn't break pace, and she can still feel the eyes on her, but it's something.

"More like a second-in-command. But the others tend to listen to me. You'll meet our leader soon enough, I'm sure."

Again, not foreboding at all.

Xavier stops, finally, and points his tail towards a decrepit building off to their left. "In there. Like I said, you'll want to hear it from him."

Something makes the skin along her spine crawl at the sight of the building, at the small hole torn into the side of it, the only clear way in. She brushes against Penny's side and leans briefly into her shoulder, taking comfort in the contact. She has to remind herself, constantly, that she's not alone here. Won't be ever again.

"Thank you," Ghost says, and Xavier nods in acknowledgement. "Really."

When they get to the edge of the building, it's too late to notice that Xavier is following them instead of leading, that he lets Ghost and Emberstrike and everyone else go in before he does. She's last to step in, and the second her tail is clear of the hole in the side of the building something goes crashing over it, cutting off their source of light. Someone yelps as they're plunged into almost blackness, and she flinches, staring back at the plank of wood that just cut off their only way of getting out.

"You're kidding me, right?" Penny hisses, prodding at the wood. It doesn't budge. "Wow, you're really not kidding me."

"We really played ourselves with that one," Emberstrike says flatly, staring in defeat at the blocked exit.

"Guys?"

She nearly jumps again, but it's Rowan's voice, and she sees his eyes, bright as ever, approaching them. She lets out a sigh of relief that at least one problem has been solved, even if they've just plunged headfirst into ten more.

"You okay?" She asks, rushing forward to check. He seems unharmed from what she can tell, but it's the look in his eyes that really makes her nervous. He looks a little uneasy and a whole lot scared. It's not a look she's never associated with him. He's trembling, almost imperceptibly.

"Where's Damon?" Ghost demands. The other tom is nowhere in sight. Rowan looks at him helplessly, and there's the faintest scent of blood in the air, but if Rowan isn't injured and he was with Damon, then that means...

"Is he alive?" She asks, but she's almost afraid to.

Rowan looks at her, and the fear in his eyes starts to make sense, all of sudden. "I don't know."

* * *

Me and my shitty cliffhangers, part what, like six?


	21. Firstborn

Chapter Nineteen.

* * *

 **Ghost - Middle of the City, Guild Territory.**

* * *

It hadn't been an easy night.

He could hear too much and see nothing except his friends in here, their bare surroundings. If any of them had managed to get more than a few spare minutes of sleep at a time, he'd be surprised. Even when he had laid down, managed to calm his heart rate down that he felt weary enough to close his eyes, a few moments later something from outside would have him snapping awake yet again.

It didn't help that everyone else looked close to breaking the wall down to get out. If that was even possible.

Penny seems to be number one on the breaking down the wall train. Darkwhisker spent most of his time during the night climbing as far as he could into the building, trying to find a way out to no avail. His sensibility, even here, it seems is useless.

All they got of Rowan was the most basic of stories. Since then, he's been quiet.

They got to close to unknown territory. Those two from before, Bryce and Zane, tried to chase them off. Didn't even hurt them, which surprised Ghost the most. All it took was a fence, really, and a sharp jagged end, and then Damon was bleeding all over the pavement. Far too much, Rowan said. Nothing they would've been able to fix. They didn't even have supplies to begin with, and they wouldn't find them easily in this city.

So Rowan gave up. Stopped running, because he knew there was someone here who could fix Damon better than they ever would be able to.

What he did not expect was to get separated from him, to spend nearly an entire day alone trapped in this building, nothing else surrounding him. No one's come to see him, to tell him if Damon's alright. If Damon's even still alive. It works to explain why Rowan was so terrified.

"Think they're gonna let us starve to death?" Flora asks after a while. She's still sitting side by side with Rowan, having given up on getting Penny to do the same.

"Hope not," Emberstrike mutters. "Have no interest in going like that. Doesn't sound like much fun."

Yeah, he's seen it happen. It really isn't fun. Not to watch or to have it happen to you.

It's odd, how in this situation he seems to be the most calm, save for Darkwhisker. Every time someone looked close to snapping it was him they looked to for reassurance. Not even words.

"We'll get out of here eventually," he says quietly. "We have to."

Eventually is sooner rather than later, however. The sun is starting to flood through the high up windows, and he's almost about to lay down again and try to close his eyes when there's a noise from outside. Different than the rest. Louder, more purposeful. After a minute the large slab of wood covering their exit disappears, hitting the concrete outside with a thud.

"You all managed to survive the night! Good job."

It's Xavier again. He's flanked by the tom from the night before, Griffin, and another tom he can't ever remembering passing from the night before.

None of them respond. Frankly, he doesn't even know what to say. Xavier looks unconcerned and rolls his eyes, stepping aside.

"You can come out now."

Again, none of them do anything. He's almost touched by the unity. He knows how desperately everyone wanted to get out in the middle of the night, how much they still want to. But they're all wary enough of the situation that they stick together, eyeing the exit cautiously.

"Come on," Xavier chuckles. "Stop looking at me like I'm public enemy number one. Come outside, have something to eat. Relax for five minutes, maybe."

"You just locked us up for the night and now you're telling us to relax?" Penny deadpans. "Nice."

"All part of the process," Xavier explains. "Last time a deserter came back after disappearing they killed six others in their sleep before any of us caught him. Consider it a trial run. You guys don't start anything, you're free to go. Back to your home, your Clan, wherever you came from."

The word Clan coming from a complete stranger startles him.

"How do you know about that?" Darkwhisker asks, and he's no doubt filled with the same curiosity he is.

"Your friend told me. Nice guy."

"I'm going to kill him," Penny hisses, and for a moment he can't quite tell if she's referring to Damon or Xavier. Both is probably the safest bet.

He makes the decision to go outside before anyone else can stop him. The sun is indeed nearly at it's peak in the sky and he blinks harshly. He braces himself for something bad to happen but nothing does. All Xavier does is step aside to make room for the others.

They don't even need to hunt for their own food. They're led, eventually, to a pile of prey near another building, shielded by stacks of boxes pushed up against the wall. There's no one guarding it.

"You trying to poison us?" Emberstrike questions, and makes a face back at him when Xavier gives her an incredulous look. "Geez. Just checking."

He feels bad about taking the prey of these cats, though. For whatever reason. There's dozens of them all around, much bigger than a Clan would ever be in size. There's no way even Xavier can know them all, or even the leader of this place. Too much to keep track of.

"Don't feel bad," Rowan murmurs quietly, scooping up a mouse. Like he's reading his thoughts "They probably caught this just for us. You're pretty much on your own for hunting around here, so."

He takes his mouse back and settles down next to Flora, who shrugs at him. They're all feeling it, then. This is the opposite of their old lifestyle, where they always fed the elders and queens first. Where in leaf-bare he almost always ate last because he felt bad watching someone else be hungry. Then again, has he even seen any cats that would be elders? Nope. No sign of kits, either. No one to take care of.

His stomach is churning, and he barely manages to get down a sparrow, despite how hungry he is. Xavier and Griffin have wandered a ways away and the third tom is gone. It appears as if he was only there for back-up in case they did try something.

Xavier glances over at him. "You good?"

"Yeah. Just want to get back to Damon and we'll get out of here."

"Actually, I need one of you to come and speak to our leader first. Doesn't matter to me who."

It's him, then. Instantly. He's not letting anyone else go. He doesn't know where this leader is, or why he needs to be spoken to. That's his _job_. To keep everyone here as safe as possible no matter what situation they're in. What he couldn't do before he's going to do now.

"We'll, you're not going alone," Emberstrike informs him. "Everyone else can go make sure Damon's alright. I'm coming with you."

* * *

The uneasiness returns, when him and Emberstrike are separated from the rest of the group.

There was no point in them all moving together. He'd see Damon soon. He just wishes there was another way to keep track of them, to watch over them while they moved further and further away.

For all he knew, it wasn't even that far away.

Xavier leads them to what looks like nothing more than a pile of rubbish, stacked high enough that they can hardly see the top. He navigates it, though, like he has a hundred times, and Ghost has no choice but to follow in equal confidence. It's better to get this over with now. There's a well-trodden path through it all, and at the end it opens up into a fairly large area, well-shielded from the elements for where it's situated. Sitting within it is a golden-brown tom, slowly grooming one of his shoulders. He hardly spares them a glance when they approach.

"I'll be outside when you guys are done," Xavier says quietly, and he backs out. Leaving them alone with the other tom, their leader, who has yet to speak a word.

It's awkward. There's no other way to describe it. Beside him, Emberstrike shifts on her paws, staring at the tom in silence. He flattens the fur along his shoulder once more and looks up at them, like he's noticing them for the first time.

"So you are the ones who have intruded on my territory?"

"That would be us," he replies. The tom shrugs, and swipes a paw over his ears.

"And who would you be, exactly?"

"Ghost. And this is Emberstrike."

Whoever this leader is, he seems interested all of a sudden, tilting his head to the side. On some cats it would look intimidating - on him it almost looks comical.

"Emberstrike, right," he says calmly. "A Clan name, I presume? From my brother's group, then?"

"Sorry?" He asks, for once not feigning the confusion.

"Xavier told me your injured friend mentioned being from the Clans. I assumed you were a bunch of little runaways from my brother's group, but—"

"Oh, no," Emberstrike interrupts. "You're not serious, are you? Please tell me you're not Fable's brother."

Ghost almost gets nervous, at her tone of words. Afraid that this nameless leader would be angered at being interrupted. But now, he doesn't care. It seems like, in such a wide world, there shouldn't be any way this could happen. That Fable has a brother, and they're sitting in front of him without a care in the world.

"That I am. And I assume I was wrong about your origins?"

"Just a little," Emberstrike says, where he finds he doesn't have words. "Mind keeping that information to yourself? Would sure help us a lot."

"I have little love for my brother," he says. "As I'm sure he still has none for me. If you're under the assumption I want to hand you both over to him, you're wrong. There's no reason for us to interact. We have a code, a certainly loyalty to each other despite the opposite direction of our paths, but if we stayed at opposite ends of the world until our deaths I wouldn't mind."

He just keeps staring, wondering if this cat is similar to Fable in any way at all. If this is what he could be looking in the eyes one day. Fighting, maybe. It's unsettling to look into the eyes of someone who is almost your enemy. Is, in another scenario.

"Any other questions?"

"Yeah, I've got several," he manages. "If you're brothers, why is he up there and you down here? Why are you treating him like he's hardly even family?"

It's partially because of Jaytalon, he thinks. Can't imagine being enemies with his own family. It's a miracle he survived being separated at all.

"Fable is many things," he says. "Naive, jealous, hungry for a life where he is the only one looked to. He was not that here. The firstborn son inherits, as they always have. As I am. As my firstborn will do as well. He would never get a chance to lead, if he stayed here. The only way to do that would be to kill me, which he never had the guts for. So he left. Made his own way. Created a life where he was that leader. I don't consider him an enemy. Foolish, yes. I know he considers me one. No doubt he longs to get revenge on me for something. But he knows he won't win."

"I actually think that just made me more confused than I already was," Emberstrike mutters, and he can't help but agree. "Also, what is your name? Do we get to know that?"

"Brink," he answers simply. _Brink_. So much weight behind such a simple name.

The knowledge is confusing. But it also explains how things work here. Why Fable did what he did. It's given reasoning to something he never understood, until now.

Everyone has their story. Even Fable.

"Xavier's your second-in-command," Ghost says. "But he won't become leader? Does that not create turmoil, when a leader dies?"

"Every leader has an heir. It's always been this way. It's how this group works. My father, my grandfather. It goes back years."

"And no she-cats to be seen," Emberstrike says quietly, but Brink's eyes flicker to her nonetheless. It's that look that unsettles him more than anything else in the past day has; the way the slightest bit of anger bleeds into his eyes, something wolfish alongside it. Something defensive rises up in his chest at the sight of it, and the challenge in her gaze doesn't help matters all.

To be fair, he'd like to knock Brink off his pile of trash too. That doesn't mean he can.

"I think we'd like to go see our friend now," he interrupts, before anything can escalate. It would've, if someone like Penny would have been here instead. Somehow, Emberstrike reigns herself in. Doesn't react at all other than the look in her eyes, which isn't enough to call her out on.

"Xavier will take you to them," Brink says. "It was nice meeting you both."

He's still staring at her. It's making Ghost want to rip a piece off of him more and more by the second.

He makes sure Emberstrike leaves before he does, glancing back at Brink until he's completely out of sight. He's still wary.

"Are there ants on me?" She asks suddenly. "It feels like there's ants on me. My skin is crawling."

"I really wish it were ants," he mutters as they approach Xavier. The other tom turns to them, almost looking amused. It's still better than what he was looking at before.

"You couldn't have warned us," Emberstrike hisses at him.

"Warning you still does nothing in hindsight."

"How do you even stand him?" He asks.

"I personally don't. Why do you think everyone prefers listening to me and not him? Cats are getting sick of the old ways. Most of them, anyway. Don't use Bryce and Zane as examples. They're some of the ones who wonder what it would've been like, had Fable stayed here and killed his brother."

A Clan would never work this way. Sorrelstar or Applestar _would_ have pushed Brink down his trash pile straight into the ground for saying the things he did. There's a part of him that still wants to go back there and actually do it. He can't endanger everyone else, though. Not because of something that he'll just have to learn to ignore. If this is how this group works for the time being then he doesn't have a choice but to live with it. He doesn't get a say.

At least Xavier doesn't seem as if he's stooped to that level.

"If you guys are good to go—"

"Ready to leave a few minutes ago," Emberstrike says simply. "Lead the way."

Xavier really does seem to weave his way through this environment with an ease that no one else does. Nothing looks quite like an obstacle to him and it's easier to follow along than ever. He shouldn't feel so safe following the other tom after what happened last night when he led them somewhere, but when faced with a leader like Brink it only seems that much easier to trust Xavier.

"Do you have someone here who knows something about medicine? Like a healer?" He asks, thinking of Rowan's words from the middle of the night. Obviously Damon is alive. The idea of a healer is intriguing enough on it's own, in a place like this.

"Most cats here have at least some concept of how to patch themselves up. You'd be dead pretty quick if you didn't, living here. Rowan was right, bringing him here. It wasn't that serious - blood made it look worse than it was, but. Can't blame him."

"Well, thank you," he says. "For keeping him alive."

"You don't gotta thank me," Xavier says, waving his tail forwards. Ghost looks ahead; his friends are all clustered around the side of a building, with two she-cats. It's the only she-cats he's really seen around here who haven't been sticking to the shadows or skulking around, a pale tortoiseshell and dark brown tabby. Griffin is still hanging around too, but all he can really focus on is Damon. He is indeed alive, leaning his weight awkwardly onto one side more than the other, but alive nonetheless. Emberstrike rushes forward to her brother's side, looking relieved to be anywhere other than around Brink, and he pushes his way through the group to face Damon.

"You're an idiot," he says flatly, and Damon smiles. There's cobwebs patched up all along his side, dried blood around the edges, but his eyes are bright.

"I've already told him that," Penny insists. "Several times."

"I can't believe you lost a fight to a fence."

"Says the guy who's gotten landed on _twice_ ," Emberstrike points out, grinning at him cheekily, and he rolls his eyes. Penny snorts in amusement, and it's easy to see the lack of tension in her shoulders, now that they're all back together. This is progress, he knows. And it's better than nothing.

"I'm glad you're okay," he says finally, and Damon nods. Rowan is glancing at them warily, and he thinks back to Brink. About Rowan growing up here, surrounded by all that hate. No wonder he ran when he did.

"Like Xavier said, you have others to thank for that," Damon says, and he gestures to the two she-cats. They've been quiet up until now, just watching the proceedings, but Ghost notices that they're not backing down or shying away from the group of them. There's something to suggest they're different than the rest of this group. Damon looks to them too.

"Oh, don't start with that again," Penny hisses under her breath.

"What?"

"He's been making heart eyes at her," she continues, glancing towards the pale tortoiseshell. "Since we got here. It's ridiculous. Tell him to stop."

"Like you're any better!" Damon whispers incredulously, turning back to them. That's fair enough. "And shut up. If I can hear you she can probably hear you too. This isn't funny!"

"I think it's funny," Darkwhisker mumbles, and Emberstrike laughs. Damon looks decidedly unamused.

The still un-named tortoiseshell is looking at them in amusement. She probably can hear them, clear as day, and so can the other she-cat, but she hasn't said anything. She steps forward then, nodding towards Ghost. If Damon really has been staring at her he can't say he blames him. She is quite pretty. Certainly nicer than most of the things he's seen in this city thus far.

"Aurora," she introduces. "And this is Dani. Nice to meet you."

"Ghost. Thank you, for not letting him permanently lose to the fence." He's never going to let Damon live that one down. He needs some minor satisfaction in his life, and if this is how he's going to get it, then so be it.

"Wasn't too hard," Aurora said. "Besides, Dani's better at it than I am. I'm usually just here for moral support."

There's another long moment where Damon just stares at her, and Ghost is on the fast track to thinking he needs to teach him something about subtlety. He of all cats should not have to teach him that lesson. Certainly not now, and not _here_ , of all places.

"So you're a healer?" He asks Dani, directing his attention to her. All he can think about in the back of his mind is a medicine cat, of having that role filled by someone who actually knows what they're doing. It's awful to think, when Goldenleaf is still alive, and Penny's thinking it too, judging by the look she gives him.

"Not so fast," Penny says, voice quiet. "We're still going after my sister."

 _We're_. He's not the only one who heard it. Flora's eyes light up, and Rowan manages to crack a smile at the determination in her voice, the first time he's looked anything other than nervous since they found him.

"Yeah, we are," he agrees.

Another puzzle piece settles into place.

"Love to stay and chat," Dani says. "But I should probably go check on a friend. Griff, you're coming with me."

Griffin waves his tail in farewell, still mostly silent, and the two of them disappear around the corner of the building. Even though they're together again, it's obvious that they can't leave. Not yet. Damon's side probably needs a day or two to heal up better, at least enough that he can make the journey back. He's standing and he's excited they're together but there's an underlying pain he probably wouldn't admit to.

"You guys can stay here for the night," Aurora tells them. "Unless you have any interest in asking my father for similar hospitalities. Judging by the look on your faces when you got here though, I doubt it."

He stops. Looks at her.

Emberstrike blinks.

"You're not," she deadpans. "Don't tell me you are. I don't believe you."

The thing is, he doesn't want to believe it either. They look nothing alike. His yellow eyes to her blue. But where Brink's gaze unsettled him Aurora's is just cool, content. Waiting for a reaction.

"You're Brink's daughter," he deduces. He can feel Xavier's eyes on the back of his head, knows he has to think carefully about what he says next. Xavier will bring everyone in here down on him if he doesn't think before he speaks. Aurora hasn't said anything, but the lack of refusal is enough to confirm it anyway. Emberstrike shakes her head in disbelief, clamping her own jaw shut.

"Brink's daughter," Aurora says finally. "More specifically though? The heir. It really is nice to meet you."

Damon makes a choked noise, something either shocked or pained. He can't really tell.

"Firstborn son," Ghost manages. "He said it was always the firstborn son."

"Kinda hard for your firstborn son to be the heir when you don't have one," Aurora informs him. "Funny how that works, isn't it?"

He has no idea what else he's supposed to say. The contempt in Brink's eyes when he looked at Emberstrike, none of that matches up with the fact that his heir is no doubt someone he looks down on as well. His own daughter. Aurora doesn't look angered, though. More resigned, like she's used to the reaction.

And Xavier's still _staring at him_.

"If you have something to say, you might as well say it," Xavier challenges, and when he turns to look around at him, he actually manages a split second of nervousness. Xavier doesn't look like he's about to rain hell down on them, but his eyes have settled protectively over Aurora, and yeah. He's nervous. Damon recognizes the look at nearly the same time, notes the way Xavier is looking at her, and averts his eyes. He looks up into the sky aimlessly, letting out a breath through his teeth. Nearly panicked himself.

"Never look anywhere again," Penny hisses at him.

"I'm good," Ghost manages, struggling to maintain the same level of intensity in his eyes. Birchwind was never this nerve-wracking to look at, or to talk to. Why is Xavier so much worse?

Xavier nods. "That's what I thought."

He wants to look back at Damon and Rowan, wants to scream _why did you drag us into this_. He knows why, though, and he still can't justify it as contributing to their journey in any way shape or form.

He just wants to leave, and that's the last thing he can do.

* * *

Only excited to post this chapter so everyone can quit complaining about the next one being so far away.


	22. The First Rule

Chapter Twenty.

* * *

 **Carbunkle - Middle of the Skulk.**

* * *

"Does anyone even know where we're going?"

"Of course," Aurane says, and he stares at her until she turns back, shaking her head in silence. It's almost comical. It probably would be comical, if Azra had caught it. She's thankfully far enough ahead that they haven't had to converse with her much, but it's only a matter of time. They've scoured the entire north-eastern side of the Skulk to no avail, walked along the entire western edge. There really isn't that much left to consider.

"Pretty sure I've seen that tree before," Amarei says casually. Aurane stops until she bumps into her haunches. It's funny, watching Amarei try and fail to hide her smile as Aurane stares at her, looking none too dead behind the eyes.

The aforementioned tree is nothing more than a scraggly, leaf-barren thing on the side of the broken thunderpath. He wouldn't be surprised if they had walked past it before, but it's dark and he's been more focused on how it seems more and more likely that they're gonna get jumped by the minute. Aurane looks up and stares at it, sighing deeply. That leaves them all standing in the middle of the thunderpath aimlessly, until Azra turns around and makes her way back to them.

"There's only a section of houses left along the treeline," she says. "If they're anywhere, it's there. Stay hidden, for the love of everything holy."

It's only a matter of time. Unless they've moved on, then Icestar and whomever he's picked up along the way is hiding here. They've seen other cats since getting here, far in the distance, but none Ripper recognized. None that gave them a solid lead.

"Do you think they're even here?" Reddian asks, staring around. To be honest, he's starting to wonder more and more about that every second.

"Hope so."

"Okay, but what if they aren't?" Amarei insists from his left side. She's nearly flattened to the ground, no doubt trying to keep her white pelt hidden from whoever could see it. In his honest opinion, it's really not working.

"Then we go home and hope we live to see the next morning," he says. It's probably true. If they're not here, they have no more leads. Only thousands of miles of forest and city to look through, and there's no point without an idea behind it. They'll go back to Tempest empty-handed and she'll probably kill them. Maybe not, if they're especially lucky. There's only so much luck left at this point.

"I really don't wanna die," Amarei says.

"I do," Reddian says flatly. "Better than standing around here. This sucks."

"All of you shut up," Azra snaps. He hadn't even noticed her paying them any mind. "We saw something up ahead. Come on."

Reddian lets out a mock cheer under their breath and rushes forward. Aurane and Ripper are crouched in the shadows of one of the twoleg nests. There are a few other nests across the thunderpath, a little ways down, and then the woods begin again. Before he even pads up to Aurane's side he sees the eyes not far from the edge of the trees, staring off in the opposite direction.

Keeping watch. Their eyes swivel in their direction and the group backs up, around the corner of the nest. Out of sight.

"Who is that," Azra mutters, more of a statement than an actual question. Her eyes laser in on Ripper regardless.

"Why are you looking at me?" He hisses. "I don't know who it is."

Whoever it is, she's younger than any of them, and a lot smaller. Not a kit but not full grown either. There's no sign of any others, but it's the scent that catches his attention, once he really focuses. It reminds him of a group, of a collective like MountainClan. Stronger than anything they've come across thus far.

"Charlie said there was a young tortoiseshell she-cat with Icestar," he murmurs quietly, and that's who they're looking at right now. Unless his life is full of coincidences at the moment, it has to be. And not just anyone keeps watch, either. You only keep watch if you're worried you have something to look for. That's why they've hardly seen anyone since night has fallen. No one else here thinks they're in any danger.

"So what's the plan?" Amarei asks.

"We kill whoever tries to get away and take everyone else," Azra says. "That's the plan."

"She'll see us if we even step out onto the thunderpath," Ripper hisses. He's doing an impeccable job of not hesitating, considering he could very well be fighting someone he's related to in a few minutes. His voice is steady, his eyes calm. Who knows what storm is brewing inside.

"Don't worry guys," Reddian says. "I've got a plan."

They take off.

"Uh, what?" Aurane manages. Reddian weaves back, around the nest they're crouched next to, and then disappears. Ripper sends the group a confused glance and chases after them before they can get too far. He only wishes they would've communicated the plan before running off and doing it themselves. That way he'd at least have the faintest clue about what's going on. The two of them reappear after a moment, further down the thunderpath. They only wait until the young she-cat is looking the other way to dart across, and within seconds they're hidden in the trees, the thick undergrowth obscuring them from view.

Ripper's head pops out of the brush just behind the nest. He's glancing upwards, up the side of the building. Watching carefully.

"That worked a lot better than I thought it would," Aurane hums.

Reddian appears on the roof.

"What," he deadpans, sounding far too much like Aurane just two minutes ago for his liking. Reddian's perching carefully on the sloped roof, looking down. He can't see it from here, but can picture a caved-in hole in the middle of the roof, Reddian's eyes scoping out the room. Who's in it. What they're facing. Clever as always, if a bit reckless, but it's worked out for them thus far.

Thus far isn't right now, though.

That's probably exactly why Reddian goes crashing through the roof, shingles splintering off the side and all across the ground. Ripper leaps out of the undergrowth, but Reddian is already gone, nothing but the sharp crack as the roof gives away and Reddian's startled howl splitting the darkness in two.

The small tortoiseshell at the door leaps to her feet, fur bristling, at the same time Azra bolts off across the thunderpath towards her.

"So much for the element of surprise!" Aurane shouts, and she and Amarei go after her, which leaves him standing there like an idiot as another howl interrupts the night. Not Reddian's. Not anything familiar.

This was such a bad idea.

He races up the front steps and gets to the door just in time to see the last of someone's tail whisk over the top of the stairs, and when he gets there himself everyone has spread themselves throughout the room. The first thing he notices is that Reddian's managed to scramble back up and is hanging off the edge of the hole in the roof, looking like nothing at all has went wrong.

The second thing is that Icestar is very decidedly not here.

Azra has already managed her way to the other side of the room, between the tortoiseshell previously guarding the door and a silver and white she-cat. Aurane is to his right, Amarei at her flank.

Ripper's looking through the hole in the roof, and that look is enough to confirm it.

Besides the tortoiseshell, there's two others her size, in the opposite corner. An older, ginger and white tom next to them. He looks disgruntled, and is staring up towards the hole in the roof. It seem as if he was the victim of Reddian falling through the roof, judging by the broad grin on their face. A black and white she-cat locks eyes with him, her ears flattened to her head, the mangled tom next to her looking particularly annoyed.

"Easy way or the hard way," Azra growls. Everyone looks to her, him included. They're still doing this? _Seriously_?

No one moves.

"Hard way, then."

"I really don't like the hard way," Amarei mutters.

Azra leaps for the silver and white she-cat, who doesn't manage to get out of the way in time. And then everything goes to hell.

One of the younger ones leaps towards him and he ducks, sliding out of the way. They end up tackling Amarei instead, their momentum carrying them over to her, and she shrieks as another one of them attempts to join the pile.

"Red!" He shouts. They're still hanging from the roof, staring at the fray with wide eyes. "Get down here!"

"Nah! My strategy is working just fine!" They yell back. Reddian takes a flying leap off the roof and tackles the ginger tom straight into the floor so hard the wood creaks. Ripper hits the ground next to them and plucks one of the younger cats off of Amarei's back. He darts forward to grab the other, the tortoiseshell again, dead set on gently depositing them somewhere across the room because he really doesn't want to fight them. She's windmilling frantically in his grip though, and a lucky blow catches him across the shoulder. He doesn't expect claws either, but his shoulder is definitely bleeding and he has no choice but to drop her as she struggles away.

The black and white she-cat is attempting to bundle the youngest of them into the corner, away from the fight, while staring down Ripper. Azra is still locked onto the other she-cat, both of their pelts flecked with blood. He watches as Aurane stops dead in front of the mangled tom from before, her eyes wide.

"Wow, you look terrible mate," she says flatly.

"Thanks," he growls back. "Hadn't realized. You're really not gonna take it easy on me though, are you?"

"Nope!"

Aurane hits him so hard they both go flying back into the wall, and injured as he is it's probably going to take all he's got just to stay conscious for any amount of time.

Sometime between him staring at them and wondering what the hell is going on, Reddian has managed to climb their way back up the wall again. This leaves the ginger tom time to come after _him_ instead, and before he knows it he's getting hit, far too close to the edge of the stairs for his liking. He lashes out but it's too close quarters to do much good.

"Hold on, Noodle, I've got you!" Reddian calls. He can see them, silhouetted against the sky again, ready to leap down and help. Noodle is new, he'll give them that, but he's more concerned about how terrible of an idea that sounds like.

The tom lets go of him. Reddians jumps down from the roof.

It's about as poorly executed as it gets.

Reddian slams into him instead, and the stairs he was so concerned about before are under his back all of a sudden as the momentum carries them over. And he should've known, with how easily the roof gave way, that they would end up here.

The stairs collapse underneath them.

He lands on the ground of the first floor with a thud, Reddian half on top of him only serving to make matters worse. Jagged pieces of the stairs rain down around them, and it's all he can do to press his face into the ground to ensure he doesn't lose an eye. He can still hear caterwauls and screeches from the second floor, and is praying that no one's dead yet.

"My bad," Reddian croaks, finally, sliding off him with a thump to the floor. "That hurt. Ow."

"You landed on _me_ ," he insists. It still feels a little hard to breathe. It does appear as if he got the worst of it, and he can still move. Could've been worse, then. Doesn't make him feel any better.

"Guys!"

He looks up. Amarei is staring down in the hole at them, eyes wide. "There are kits up here, guys! You should see—"

Someone shoves her in with them. He doesn't get time to move.

Amarei lands on him, squawking the whole while, and then nearly headbutts him in the face. One of the younger cats from before is standing at the edge of the hole, looking absolutely petrified. One of the others appears beside him, crowing with delight.

"Cricketpaw, that is easily the best thing you've ever done. Nice!"

He shoves Amarei off, still laying rather helplessly on the ground. Reddian struggles to their feet, sneezing at the cloud of dust in the air, and then hauls them up too. He staggers, the broken pile of wood at his feet shifting uneasily. He'd gladly cut his losses while he was ahead and just force the others to leave, but Aurane is still up there, and he can't. No matter how willing he is to leave Azra behind.

"I hate all of you!" He hears Aurane shout. They need to get back up there, even if it means jumping. It's not that far of a stretch. Now they're outnumbered, so far, and he doesn't have any interest in keeping her in any sort of danger any longer.

"Who are _you_?"

He turns at Reddian's incredulous shout. There's a new, unfamiliar she-cat in the doorway, her cream pelt darkened to brown at the muzzle and paws. There's others behind her, too. Toms and she-cats all filling his line of vision, some jumping on their paws, some staring calmly ahead.

She sighs. "Guess someone forgot to invite me to the party."

* * *

 **Cricketpaw - Twoleg Nest, Edge of the Skulk.**

* * *

"What's going on?"

Cricketpaw, standing at the top of the stairs, has no idea what's going on. Well, what's left of the stairs. He doesn't really know why Tawnypaw's asking him like he's going to have some sort of explanation for all of this. There's a small horde of cats standing just outside of the doorway. The three standing on the first floor, including the white she-cat Cricketpaw pushed down there, are all bunched down there, battered and covered in dust.

"Oh, you're _kidding_ me," Lope spits. The brown she-cat still has him pinned to the floor, but his head is twisted to catch a glimpse of the doorway.

"Aurane!" One of them calls. "I think we should go!"

"I think you should," the she-cat in the door agrees, too calmly. Cricketpaw flattens himself against the wall, convinced on some level that this still isn't over.

There's a tense moment where nearly everyone in the room locks eyes with each other. Tawnypaw presses up against his side, and Nyla backs up, face bleeding, until she's between them and everyone else.

The brown she-cat lets Lope up, backing away carefully. "Ripper, go."

The gray and white tom doesn't need to be told twice. In two seconds he's scaled the wall and disappears through the hole in the roof. Cricketpaw watches as his tail whisks through the opening, making sure he doesn't come back. It's the tortoiseshell he's worried about, though, the one who's still got her claws tangled in the fur around Stark's neck, eyes burning.

"Azra," the she-cat says. "We need to go. Now."

"You don't give me orders."

"Three seconds!" The she-cat in the door calls. "Or I kill everyone left in this room that doesn't belong here."

"I really hope she doesn't mean us," Tawnypaw whispers frantically, ducking herself to nearly blend into the floor.

It's been three seconds by now, right? It has to have been. The she-cat steps aside, giving the three downstairs just enough room to get out, and they do, practically throwing themselves down the front stairs after the brown she-cat locks eyes with them. It's clear, what that message is. She wants them to leave, and they don't argue. There's probably no use in arguing.

The she-cat steps inside and launches herself onto the second floor, catching the edge of the stairs with her claws. She's so close to him it's mildly terrifying, and he can feel Tawnypaw's uneasiness, the trembling in her limbs.

"Really wish I was sorry about this," the brown she-cat says flatly, and she leaps for the roof.

The tortoiseshell is alone. It's safe to say even she didn't see that one coming.

Lope finally staggers to his feet, wobbling like no tomorrow. For an instant, the tortoiseshell doesn't exist. It's just Lope staring at the she-cat who's still standing too close to Cricketpaw for his liking.

"You just can't stay out of trouble, can you?" She asks, voice lilting. She's holding herself with a sense of regality Cricketpaw's sure he's never seen before. Lope keeps his mouth shut, but Cricketpaw connects the dots. Sees the way all of these cats are listening to her, how she's standing there without a care in the world.

"Macaria," he whispers, but it's still too loud. She turns on him, smile sharp enough to practically cut him in two. Tawnypaw sucks in a harsh breath.

"Smart kid," she compliments. The thing is, she still doesn't look like that's who she should be. Her pelt is scarred, but not like Lope's is. He expected her to be something straight out of his nightmares. That or something he wasn't capable of imagining. He's still not certain he was ever even capable of imagining what's happening right now. Azra is still standing there, menacing as ever, but she very slowly releases Stark. Stark, to her credit, doesn't move at all. Cricketpaw has no idea how she was so calm during all of that.

"To think all I wanted was for MountainClan's stragglers to stay away from me," Macaria says. "And yet here you are."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Azra snarls.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not disappointed."

She's going to die. He really doesn't want to watch.

He turns and leaps down to the first floor before anyone can stop him, putting as little pressure as he can on his back leg. Despite being healed he doesn't want to mess it up all over again. He hears Scotch call after him, and then Stormpaw, but he shoves his way out the door before someone can make him come back inside. There's still a throng of cats outside, and he can see the messengers across the way. Not running. Not yet, anyway.

There's a screech from inside the nest, but he doesn't flinch. He's too busy watching all the others, maybe ten or so, milling around. There's a few lined up on the opposite side of the thunderpath from the messengers.

"Would you look at that, the parasite is alive and walking."

Cricketpaw would have jumped, but the voice is somewhat familiar. The last time he heard it the rain was pouring down, and he was cold and sore, but this time it's better. He thinks anyway. Bastian is behind him, as hulking as ever, still looking like he could kill him just by stepping on him. He swallows.

"You're here?" He croaks weakly. "Why?"

 _"Harsh_ ," Bastian says. "That's what I get for saving all of you?"

Bastian did this. Bastian brought them reinforcements. What? His next words get caught in his throat as Bastian stares at him. He really does feel like a parasite.

"Out of the way," he continues, and shoves him in the shoulder, none too gently. Cricketpaw stumbles back, away from the stairs, just as Azra's body gets thrown outside.

 _Oh._

Her throat's almost gone entirely, blood staining her dark pelt, as she lands with a harsh thud on the grass and stone. Macaria strides out after her, looking like nothing's happened at all. There's blood around her muzzle, though, in her teeth when she opens her mouth. Cricketpaw swallows again, almost thankful Bastian pushed him out of the way. Better than getting caught up in the middle of that.

"That's your warning!" Macaria calls out. "Tell Fable and Tempest to stay the hell out of my territory. Let's not go through this again."

She pushes a paw into Azra's motionless side, and the messengers, without words, seem to agree to run at once. That's all it took. Cricketpaw watches them flee with a sigh of relief, deflating all at once. The others begin to file out of the nest after that. Stark trots to his side, shaking blood off her pelt. She's okay, though, still holding herself strong. Even Lope comes out at long last, Nyla at his heels to make sure he's not close to falling over.

"I'm literally having a nightmare," Lope grumbles. "Why are _you_ here?"

The latter was directed at Bastian, who has the gall to smile. "I was just headed this way to tell you guys some interesting news. Caught sight of that group making their way over here; went and got some help. You're welcome."

Lope says nothing.

"I would really appreciate knowing when you make friends, Lope," Macaria says. Cricketpaw carefully slides closer to Stormpaw at her approach. Lope tenses, though, jaw locking and something defensive in his gaze. It almost looks as if he doesn't want to look at her at all, and no one here misses it.

"I'm sorry," Nyla interrupts. "We didn't mean—"

"The only thing I like less than random strangers running through my territory is MountainClanners. Still wouldn't mind if you lot scrammed either."

"They can't, though," Bastian says. "It appears as if they're missing some."

Even though Damon wasn't with them yet, Bastian has to have noticed Ghost missing. Emberstrike and Darkwhisker too. He knows they're only here because they can't leave. Not until they get back. It's already been over a week since they left, though, and Cricketpaw can't help but wonder just how much longer they'll be gone. If they'll come back with more numbers or less.

"As soon as they come back, we'll leave," Nyla promises.

"Those MountainClanners will be back before then regardless of what I told them," Macaria says. "They're interested in you. They'll come back with more reinforcements just to taunt you, if they don't tear you apart or take you prisoner first. Depends on their mood."

They're done for. They can't leave The Skulk, unless they want to risk never seeing Ghost and the others again, and they can't hold off an entire army.

"It appears as if you're in need of help," Macaria announces. "And I'm willing to offer it. On one condition. From here on out, you listen to me. The second your friends get back you leave. I don't care what happens in-between."

"Why are you willing to help us?" Lope asks, but Cricketpaw hears the real words. Why are you willing to help _me_? He can only wonder about the history there, because he certainly isn't about to ask.

"Like I said, the only thing I like less than strangers, and _you_ , frankly, is that excuse for a Clan. They'll be back here whether you leave or not. Might as well have the numbers. I'm not an idiot you know."

Lope mutters something under his breath, turning away. He's still in obvious pain, but he's pulling away again. Drawing back from whatever's happening here for his own safety. Stark's looking at him, worry in her eyes, but nothing's going to be revealed. Not until Lope wants to tell them. And sure, he scared Cricketpaw at first, but every day he wakes up he's more certain Lope's not going anywhere. If they're going to be Clanmates, he wants to know. They need to know.

Macaria turns to Bastian. "Go back to the base. Grab everyone who's able-bodied and get them back here. I've been itching for a good fight."

* * *

How to get close to naming your chapter _Fight Club_ without actually naming it that because everyone wanted you to.


	23. Runaways

Chapter Twenty-One.

* * *

 **Ghost - Middle of the City, Guild Territory.**

* * *

They're at a loss for what to do.

Damon can move, but unless they sit here for the next three weeks getting back up the mountain is going to be harder than getting down. At any rate, he himself seems determined to go, but Ghost hasn't decided if it's even worth it just yet.

This place makes him nervous. More nervous than anything he ever felt during those ten moons on his own, and that's saying something. It helps, having the others around, but it only makes him worry more. If he's in danger, then they're _all_ in danger. It does help, however, that Xavier left to go do something and hasn't been back for several hours now. It's left them with only Aurora, who he's gotten used to in the past day. Her initial iciness has dissipated into something friendly, easier to be around. He still hasn't ventured into the territory of talking to her, but he figures it's now or never.

She's been sitting with Damon for most of the day. At first he thought it was because of the injury, because Dani had yet to return from wherever she left to yesterday. It's becoming more clear to him though that Aurora actually likes him. Maybe not likes him likes him, as Penny keeps putting it, always punctuated with a particularly sour glare, but likes him enough to sit with him for all these hours, genuinely talking.

It's not all that surprising. With the exception of Xavier and Griffin, Damon's probably the nicest tom she's talked to in a while. The nicest, probably. It's probably a nice change from her daily. Especially from her father.

It also sets his nerves alight just when he thinks he's finally calmed down. The way Xavier looked at her wasn't for nothing, and he really doesn't need Damon caught up in that right now. Or any of them. They've been dragged into enough.

They came to this city and found what they needed to. Penny and Flora are certain no one else is here - they've looked themselves, over the past eight moons they've been living here.

He just wants to go home.

It's weird. He doesn't know when he started thinking of that broken, run-down nest in the Skulk as home. It's more the cats than the location, the idea that that's where this Clan really came together. Where he handed out names like he had any right to.

But it's also where Jaytalon is. Where he saw him when he never thought he'd see him again.

It's not home, not proper. They'll have to find territory, a camp. A real place that they can settle down in. He can picture it now, the dens and a perch to call meetings from. What he can't picture is being the one to stand on the perch, because for some reason he still doesn't feel like he has the right to do that. He named Emberstrike and Darkwhisker and started three apprentices on their journeys to becoming warriors, and he still doesn't feel like a leader.

Maybe that's just another journey he'll have to take for himself.

Much to his surprise, it's Aurora that comes to him first. He's still working up the nerve to peel himself away from the rest of the group, but eventually she steps forward, gesturing with her tail. Damon's napping, that or doing a pretty good job of faking it as he follows her and settles back down by his side. The wound has already started to scab over, looking better than it did when he first laid eyes on it. Whatever they used to heal in this city, it obviously works.

"I know I said it before," he begins. "But thank you. Really."

"And like I told you," she says. "I'm just the eyes. Dani did most of the work."

Ghost wonders if the sharp eyes are something that just runs strong here. Rowan has them, as evident by the way he's staring at them right now. Nothing at all gets past them, even the slightest of things.

"Considering who you are, though, you probably could've had him killed. Rowan too."

"I'm not my father," she explains. "Far from it. If that patrol had gone for him instead of Xavier, they probably _would_ be dead right now. And you would've followed, if you came looking for them the way you did."

"And it's always been this way?"

"For the most part. I never knew my grandfather but from what I've been told he was even worse than my father is. It's a bit of a contest is it? Who's worse; him, my father, or my uncle? He left before I was even born. Some say he was chased out. They're all the same though, when it comes down to it. I know how they all work."

"Your father's never wiped out almost the entirety of two Clans, though," he points out.

"No," she agrees. "He just torments everyone who's living instead. Makes your life a living hell if you don't listen to him. Belittles and pushes cats aside until they feel like they're dirt. And most of them do feel like that. Most of them probably wish Fable took over, instead of him. They'd rather be dead than living in this."

He thinks of Rowan running from this place, nothing to his name, terrified out of his mind. Feeling like he hardly existed outside of this place. If he felt that awful, how do the she-cats here survive?

"And that's what you're going to inherit. This mess?"

Aurora shrugs, and she almost looks sad. Growing up here clearly molded her into who she is now. That frosty persona, the way she holds everyone at a distance until she's really sure. Just like Fable raised Tempest up to be a second-in-command, except everyone here wonders if she's even capable of leading. He knows he doubts himself an unrealistic amount, but Aurora not only thinks it but is surrounded by it.

"I never wanted any of this," she tells him. "I don't want to lead this. I don't want to lead anything. But I don't really have a choice. When my father dies I'll become leader and if everyone here is particularly lucky the cycle will continue."

"What about Xavier?" Damon asks, and he hadn't even noticed him open his eyes. His head is still firmly laid on his paws, but he's blinking slowly at them. So he really was asleep. Not anymore, though. When Damon wakes Rowan makes his way over, too, carefully setting himself down at Ghost's side. He doesn't say anything, just very carefully pushes himself against the fringe of the conversation. Testing the waters. He looks nearly as nervous as he did when they found him.

"He'll still be second-in-command. I could choose a new one, but I won't. It's hard to find someone you trust that much, especially one you've been friends with for so long."

Rowan smirks.

"Don't start with that, Rowan," Aurora instructs. "I swear, you better not."

"I've been gone for a _year_ and even I'm unsure if Xavier is clear about the friends thing."

Aurora sighs. "He is. Don't worry. I've told him before, he accepts it. He's one of the few good ones here, you know that. He lets me fight my own battles. He just ends up getting involved in them too because he can't help himself."

Ghost swears he can see something hopeful in Damon's eyes at that. He wishes he could reach past Aurora and hit him. Now is really not the time for this.

"I still don't understand why it's you, though," he asks, if only to stop Damon from opening his own mouth.

"Like I said. I'm the only one. No sons but dead ones. No other daughters, either."

"What happened to Deryn and Tarnish?" Rowan asks quietly. Even he seems surprised at that, although the names are unfamiliar to him personally.

"Tarnish died about a moon after you left. Gone in his sleep. Deryn was killed three moons ago."

"By who?"

"Oh, who do you think?" Xavier's voice enters the fray, and despite how many times he's heard it he still startles, turning to watch the silver tom approach. "He had it coming. You didn't even hear the worst of the threats that came out of his mouth, and I was supposed to let him become leader?"

So Aurora had siblings. Toms that could have taken over one day.

He wonders how many of them Xavier has killed.

"You want the full rundown?" Xavier asks, looking at him. "Brink's had three mates, if you even want to call them that. The first, Carlie. Gave birth to two litters - none that made it past six moons. Fled not long after that. The second Lysandra. Died giving birth to Aurora and two stillborn toms. The last, Avis. Mother to Tarnish and Deryn. You know how well that ended."

All of those options, and they still ended with Aurora. It's morbid to even think of them as options, but that's all they were. Brink trying and failing over and over again to get what he wanted.

"I'm surprised Brink let you live after pulling that," Rowan says.

"What Brink doesn't know won't kill him," Xavier mutters. "Or maybe we'll get lucky and it will."

No one sitting in this circle looks upset at his words, least of all Aurora. Though, Ghost supposes, if he grew up with a father like that he'd probably think the same thing. None of them would stand for something like that. He, for once, can't imagine anyone looking at Penny with even the slightest amount of disdain and walking away with their eyes intact.

The same goes for Flora. Although Penny would probably still be clawing their eyes out in that case too.

"Damon's told me a lot about how your Clans worked," Aurora informs him. "And it sounds ... much better than it does here, to be honest. Hopefully when I become leader I'll be able to turn it into something like that. Or die trying. But I doubt it."

If, not when. Aurora is that confident, despite a previous heir getting murdered, that she'll be the one to inherit all of this. It's encouraging, in the very least, to know that she wants to better it. Judging by the confidence in her eyes she thinks she will, and hopefully that will be enough.

"Hate to interrupt," Xavier definitely does interrupt. "But Griffin said your father was calling a meeting. Don't know if the invitation was extended to everyone, but you—"

"—definitely need to be there," Aurora finishes. "But we can all go. Are you good to walk?" This is directed towards Damon, who nods vigorously. He's a little stiff on one side, but seems to scramble to his feet just this shy of fine. Aurora steadies his shoulder regardless, and he smiles.

He can feel Penny making a face from ten feet away.

Being together, united as a group, makes it easier to walk past strangers. Or maybe that's just Aurora and Xavier's doing. People who begin to sneer at the group lay eyes on the two of them and the expression is wiped off seamlessly. It's something to see. It's also something to wonder how many are holding their tongue's because of Xavier's presence instead of Aurora's; most of them, no doubt.

The area where everyone has congregated is already packed to the brim with cats. Aurora and Xavier leave them at the far edge, parting the crowd as they make their way to the front. Brink is already seated on a high window ledge, hardly sparing a glance at the crowd down below. He watches as they take a seat below him, looking back out towards them. Aurora even offers a smile.

"I really don't think we should be here," Rowan says after a moment, so quietly Ghost strains to hear him.

"We'll be fine," Flora insists. "Don't worry."

Rowan isn't giving them any indication that it'll be fine, and he grew up here. Darkwhisker is staring at him, seemingly confused.

"What are you not telling us?" Darkwhisker asks out of the blue. Rowan blinks frantically, torn between looking at him and Brink.

"What?"

"Don't give me that. What are you—"

"Attention, everyone!"

They all freeze, falling quiet. Emberstrike just manages to slap her tail over Darkwhisker's mouth, only a small noise of discontent managing to escape before he too snaps his mouth shut. Brink's voice rings out over the area, echoing off the walls of the buildings and bouncing back.

"As always it is a pleasure to see the group brought together into one place. Not so typical, however, is the group of strangers that have been with us for the past few days."

The eyes suddenly locking onto them are not a pleasant thing.

"They are not all strangers though," Brink announces. "Many of you probably remember Rowan, young as he was when he ... left us. But there's something this collective does not know. Something I doubt our lovely new friends know either."

"What is he talking about?" Flora murmurs. The thing is, Rowan won't even turn to look at him, let alone her. Her green eyes are troubled, worried. They all look the same.

"You should probably run," Rowan says.

 _What?_

"I'm _sick_ of running," Penny says, abnormally calm. He can see the anger lurking in her, just beneath the surface. The anger that's always been there.

"It was quite interesting, that day," Brink continues. "A she-cat appearing on my doorstep, with tales of my brother scaring her just bad enough that she fled from the mountains that she had always called home. Even more interesting was the newborn kit she refused to let go of."

Time visibly slows. The eyes already on them narrow into slits or widen in disbelief. Rowan doesn't move at all. Still at the head of the group, both Aurora and Xavier get to their feet at the same time.

"You're not," Flora whispers.

 _You're not serious, are you_ , Emberstrike said to Brink yesterday. He wasn't bluffing then, and he isn't now. Somewhere deep down inside, Ghost knows it, and judging by the blankness in Rowan's eyes he knows there's no escaping this now.

"The prodigal son returns! Fable's son, my own blood. The _deserter_."

"I don't think that's what prodigal really means," Emberstrike manages, but her voice is strained.

"Rowan, look at me and tell me he's lying," Flora pleads.

He says nothing. He's trembling, just visible enough to be a real concern. Ghost knows next to nothing about him except that he saved Damon's life, offered Penny and Flora shelter and protection and genuine friendship. But what he knows now might outweigh that.

"And what do we do to deserters?" Brink hisses. It's the first time he's ever sounded anything other than flat, uninterested. Damon looks almost sick, and Ghost is pretty close himself. No one in particular answers, but there's enough answering yowls and hisses to figure out what does happen to deserters. Let alone Fable's son.

He's standing next to Fable's son.

It hits him like a ton of bricks, but what's worse is the first cat that approaches. Penny growls and swipes at him instantly. They're forced to back up a few paces, a building at their haunches and to their left. The way they walked over is the closest way out. If they're fast enough.

"Like I said," Rowan says, voice faltering. "You should run."

"Like Penny said," he fires back. "I'm sick of running too."

Rowan's eyes flicker to his, shocked. It's not a lie.

"I'm taking out that one in front of us," he says under his breath. "You three are going back the way we came. Don't stop. Emberstrike and Darkwhisker, you two are the fastest. Cut across and down that alley across the way to lure some of them off. Damon, you turn around and get in that window behind us. When we've lost them we'll come back to get you on the other side of the building."

"You can't be serious—"

"I'm very serious," he insists, turning to Emberstrike and Darkwhisker. "You remember what I said, about the warrior code? About not needing to kill your enemies to win your battles?"

"Yep."

"I fully take that back."

"Sweet," she manages. "Good to go?"

They exchange a glance.

The pair of them take off.

It takes a few seconds for everyone else to react.

Flora hauls Rowan backwards before he can decide he wants to play the hero. Penny is already halfway gone. He looks over his shoulder to make sure Damon's hauled himself safely through the window. Satisfied, he turns to tackle the tom already giving chase after them. He's about to claw at Flora's haunches and he takes him down to the concrete instead. The grit scrapes across his pelt and the tom tries in vain to get purchase on him, but he throws him off before he can get the chance, back into the crowd. The impact nearly knocks over several other cats, but he doesn't stick around to find out.

No one else has even moved by the time he rolls to his feet and chases after the rest of the group, still too shocked at their sudden split.

The congregation isn't as united as Brink had hoped.

Instantly he hears the howls, though, screeches of fury, and knows that at least some are giving chase. Damon should have been able to lose them in the darkness of the building, and Emberstrike and Darkwhisker will run circles around them. It's Rowan he's worried about. About him stopping or giving up.

Not that they'll let him, of course, but he knows just how hard it is to move someone who doesn't want to be moved.

There's enough distance between them that he sees Penny's tail whisk around the building to his right. Enough distance that if someone does by chance catch up, they'll get him instead of the others. Just because Rowan's not allowed to play the hero doesn't mean he isn't.

There's screeches up ahead though. He skids to a halt as soon as he rounds the corner.

Not this again.

It's Bryce and Zane, flanked by another tom and an even mangier she-cat, which would surprise him if he wasn't so surprised already. Everyone has spread out thin.

"You ready for round two, sweetheart?" Bryce asks, and now Flora's dangerously close to hitting him over the head.

"Didn't know there was a round one to begin with," Penny replies. She's standing between him and Rowan, shoulders squared, managing to look much bigger than she actually is.

Xavier sprints full speed into the middle of it.

Ghost hadn't even seen him coming, peeling left out of a narrow gap between two buildings. Emberstrike and Darkwhisker are on his heels, and all of a sudden their four attackers are boxed in with no way out.

"Alright, boys," Xavier says. "Claws away."

"You heard Brink. He wants that one dead." Bryce looks like he's still close to doing it anyway, leaping over all of them just to rip Rowan's throat out himself.

"And you heard me. _Stand down_."

It's something in his voice; cold, threatening, detached. Not unlike the feeling running through his veins at the moment. The unfamiliar tom backs down instantly, slinking back to the edge of the building. It only takes a moment for the she-cat to follow, although she doesn't look pleased about it.

"You next," he says to Zane, who doesn't move.

"I don't take orders from you."

"Do you really wanna test that theory?"

Zane would look threatening, if the terror in his eyes was more than barely concealed. Unsurprisingly, it's still Bryce that raises concern. He's practically foaming at the mouth, and Ghost has seen that desire to rip something apart before. It's not pretty. It never is.

They both move at the same time. Evidently the two of them think they have a better chance at taking out Rowan together. And they might've been able to, if it had just been the three of them standing here.

Emberstrike and Penny are on Zane before he even gets close, a writhing tangle of ginger and golden-brown fur. Xavier grabs Bryce by the neck and flings him across the pavement, so hard he thuds into the wall behind him. Ghost hears the sharp _crack_ , the noise of a broken spine or neck, but Bryce doesn't rise again. His eyes are glassy, and when Ghost turns there's blood spilling at an abnormal amount out of Zane's stomach.

He's dead within the minute.

Penny swipes her bloodied paws on the ground and Emberstrike licks her muzzle clean. The other two unfamiliar cats have since left, unwilling to test the theory themselves.

"Go," Xavier orders. "Down this alley, take a left. Your friend will be waiting for you."

Damon's safe. They'll get out of here together.

"What about you?" He asks.

"Don't worry about me. Like I said, what Brink doesn't know won't kill him."

It feels odd to leave him standing there to clean up two bodies while they run for their lives. They don't have a choice, though. He lets Darkwhisker take the lead down the alley he pointed out, the group rounding the first corner at the left they see.

It's a tight fit, the buildings towering up into the sky around them, but it doesn't matter.

"Hey, guys!"

He looks up. Damon is perched on the edge of the roof, looking down at them. Aurora is beside him, and that makes more sense than he'd like it to. If Xavier is helping them, then no doubt she was the one behind it all. There's a rickety, metal staircase up the side of the building, something easy for them to climb up. Damon too. No wonder he got here so quickly.

He checks over his shoulder as the rest of the group starts climbing. He can still hear searching voices in the distance, howls rising angrily, and he leaps onto the stairs in the hopes of letting them fade away.

The roof is high, and the ground spins when he looks down, hauling himself up the last few steps.

"Sorry about the lack of pleasantries," Aurora says. She points her tail off into the distance. "You should be able to follow the rooftops that way. There's a river running through the city. Once you get past that you'll be out of our territory. Some of them still might come after you outside it even then, so don't stop for anything."

"Thank you for doing this," he pants.

"My father's wrong about a lot of things. I think I've lost enough family." She looks at Rowan. He has a shaky, nervous smile on his face. Aurora's not holding this lie against him, and Ghost realizes that neither is he. Rowan isn't his father. Rowan never even _knew_ his father.

Penny is the one that looks angry, what else is new, and Rowan's smile falters when he looks at her.

"I'm not mad at you," she insists, letting out a breath between her teeth. "This is messed up. Guess you're coming with us."

"I always was."

They have a whole journey back to the mountains to talk this through, and Aurora knows it too. She reaches forward to touch her nose to Rowan's, shaking her head. The look in her eyes is already something almost fond.

"Don't make me find your body," she tells him. "Any of you, for that matter."

She pulls away, and then quickly touches her nose to Damon's too, before any of them can even respond. The goofy smile that lights up his face is at least enough to solidify that he's still okay, after all of this. The injury, the chase, none of it's changed him.

Aurora has, though.

"Maybe I'll come visit one day, once you've got this Clan of yours up and running!" She calls after them, as he nudges Damon over the first gap between buildings. Damon turns, still refusing to wipe that smile off his face.

"You should!"

Flora lets out an honest giggle, and it's ridiculous. They just got chased out of a place after getting locked up there. Could've been killed, without intervention.

But they're going back. He can see it in Penny and Flora's eyes, the relief of knowing that whatever lies ahead is what they wanted all along. Rowan still looks nervous, and he suspects that it'll take awhile for that to go away, but they have time, now.

Hopefully all the time in the world.

"Let's go home."

* * *

If I ever stop pulling stupid shit like this, assume I'm dead.


	24. Create and Destroy

Chapter Twenty-Two.

* * *

 **Tempest - MountainClan Camp.**

* * *

The sun is out.

She's not used to days like these, anymore. She's used to overcast; no sun, no moon, no stars. When the sky is clear it's like waking up to a new place. Everyone here seems to liven up more, become less prone to leaping at each other's throats over the slightest provocation.

Of course, the thoughts still linger in the back of everyone's mind. They're just less likely to actually happen.

Like now, for instance, where it looks as if Crash is two seconds from throwing Jet off the mountaintop just for the fun of it. Though it's not like she can blame him for that. The thing is, though, Jet is more useful alive than dead, even if no one else believes it. She needs him around for the sake of it, everyone else be damned. Which also coincidentally means it's up to her to stop everyone from getting annoyed with him. An almost impossible mission.

Not today, though. Jet escapes from Crash with no damage done, trotting up to her at a pace faster than normal.

"Messengers just got back. Ripper too, but it seems he's already vacated the premises to see Sophie, so."

There's an odd look in his eyes. Not that the look in his eyes isn't always odd, but it's different than normal.

"What about Azra?"

He makes a face, and then smiles widely. A deflection, one that he's never been good at, and she glares.

"I hate you."

"C'mon, don't be like that!" He shouts, laughing, but gives chase when she starts moving towards the camp entrance. She can already see what's going on, the clamoring of cats around it, no doubt questioning what happened just like she wants to. And of course, she has no idea where Fable is or why he isn't already here.

But what else is new?

"Alright peanut gallery, out of the way," she instructs. It's easy enough to shove through the few remaining cats who either didn't hear or didn't care.

In the middle are the messengers, looking worse for wear. All of them are blood-spattered, their fur mussed. Whatever happened, it's apparent that it wasn't good. And judging by Azra's complete absence, it's worse than even she's imagining.

"What happened?"

"You sent us out for one apprentice," Aurane says. "We found a whole lot more in The Skulk."

"Icestar?"

"Not exactly. At least he wasn't there. But there's a whole group of them, in The Skulk. Ripper said himself you could smell more than what's there. And it may not have been the apprentice you were looking for, but there are others. I certainly don't remember you ever telling me about a Cricketpaw."

There was no Cricketpaw when the Clans fell. Not a Cricketkit, either. Which means something bigger has been happening this whole time, right under her nose.

"You could lead us back there?" Tempest asks, mind already running a mile a minute. If Brackenpaw really is alive, if _Icestar_ is...

He has to be. There's no other explanation.

"Of course. But Macaria already chased us out of there. If you want to go back you're going to have to bring an army to get to them."

"You don't want to get to them, though," Jet says quietly, and she shakes her head.

Where's the fun, in killing them all now? In ruining the game she's discovered she's a part of? If they think they can really do it, she'd rather draw it out. Let them think they have a chance before they all die, more attached to each other than ever. Seeing their faces, though. That's what she needs for herself now. They won't need an army for that, either. If they plan it right, and Icestar _is_ there, seeing her face will be more than enough.

"We'll leave tomorrow," she orders. "It'll take longer to get an entire group to them. You four can take us back there. I assume there's no point to asking about Azra?"

"Not unless you plan on putting her throat back together," Reddian mutters, and she sighs. Such a shame. Azra had raw potential if she ever said it. Can't be helped now, though. She still marvels at how these messengers come back intact every time when others fail to do so.

"Get me Sarita," she tells Jet. "Guess we need a replacement for Azra, might as well do that as soon as possible. I'll speak to her after I talk with Fable."

"I'm coming, right?" He grins, clearly not listening. "What's a little old standoff without me there?"

"A successful one," she fires back, but they both already know he'll go whether she says so or not. Better to just allow it. Right now, though, she can't focus on that. She has to speak to Fable about all of this, because this won't work without him as the figurehead. And then Sarita, because a Guard to protect them isn't complete with only eight. Ripper had to be dealt with at some point as well, because there was only so long his disappearing acts could hold for, but she knows he won't risk running. Not after all of this. There would be a time to deal with him.

Too many things to deal with, and hardly enough time to get to them all. Not when they had to leave tomorrow.

"What about me?"

She's hardly escaped the confines of the group at the entrance when Shiera appears, stepping nimbly along the edge of the rock face.

"What about you?"

"Are you letting me come too, or no?"

"Jet's an awful influence on you," she points out, because it's the truth. He's been an awful influence on her too, since they were born days apart, but that can hardly be helped.

"So are you."

"Fair enough. But no, you're not."

"Why not?" Shiera asks, eyes calm. There's always been that natural curiosity, but rarely anger. Never, if she's being honest with herself. She has little idea how Shiera's managed that after getting raised by her and sometimes Jet, of all cats. Everyone here is full of so much hatred that pride nearly blooms in her chest just looking at her.

"Because this isn't meant for you to fight. You've never been a fighter like the rest of us. I'm sure there's something else meant for you, I just haven't figured that out yet."

"You promise?"

She flicks her tail over Shiera's ear. "You know I don't lie to you."

It's nearly touching, just how devoted Shiera seems to be. Tempest expected her to stick close to Ripper, when she was even younger than she is now, but she's shown less love to her cousin than expected. Herself and Jet are the only ones she sees Shiera talk to on a consistent basis. Starlingpaw, when she's able to. Maybe that should raise suspicion, but it doesn't.

Minnowstream is damning her from StarClan, no doubt, from doing this to her daughter.

She didn't create the little she-cat standing beside her, though. Shiera is herself, a creation Tempest couldn't have hoped to come up with on her own.

A creation that she _couldn't_ have made, either. She's only ever been meant to bring things down.

Oddly enough, the thought no longer bothers her.

"I need to speak to Fable. That's not meant for you either." The young she-cat stops instantly, leaving Tempest a few paces ahead. Unquestioning obedience is something ingrained in her, not taught.

Shiera smirks, and that razor sharp grin is all her. "You'll find something for me to do?"

"Not too long now, I have no doubt."

* * *

 **Ripper - MountainClan Camp.**

* * *

He still can't breathe.

Ever since they left The Skulk it feels as if something has been lodged in his chest. He thought the air up here was cleaner, more crisp. That it would let him breathe again.

He was wrong.

About a lot of things, it seems.

He told Iceheart it couldn't be fixed, that too much was broken. Because in that moment, in that alley, it was. Nothing made the amount of sense it was supposed to, and everything hurt too much. All of those memories dredged up, reliving the deaths of everyone he loved.

But Iceheart said he would fix it. And if he remembers one thing about his uncle from all those moons ago, it's that he rarely didn't follow through on something.

He really did it.

"You need to stop pacing," Sophie says quietly, and he very nearly trips over a rock.

"That doesn't really help."

"I know that. But pacing really isn't helping either, in case you haven't noticed."

She's right, of course. She usually is. Angel and Leo are fast asleep in a patch of sunlight but Elias is squashed between them, wide awake and staring.

"Take a deep breath. Start over. You found .. whoever. Not them exactly, but close enough. So what happens now?"

He doesn't think he'll be able to do enough in this life to really deserve Sophie. Her kind words, her comfort, paired with his sharp tongue and traitor background. He'd have gone insane by now, had she not been here, and they both know it.

"I heard Tempest. They're going after them - the Clan, whatever it is. She's about to turn this into a war." He heard her, but he already knew that deep down. The second they found them it was over. But when he heard that apprentice name, it changed. Something completely insignificant to him has changed everything.

"So what do you want to do?" She asks, and he pauses.

"What am I supposed to do? We can't run, not now. They'll be watching us like hawks. And you just told me Goldenleaf was sick while we were gone, and I can't just leave the apprentices, and—"

" _Breathe_ ," Sophie repeats, orders really, and presses her nose into his shoulder. "We'll figure this out. We always do. There's a reason why you've lived this long, why I'm here at all."

They make an odd pair, the betrayer and the kittypet who only came up this mountain because he was there.

He wouldn't let that go for the world.

Not long ago, he didn't want to run at all. Wouldn't risk any of their lives for someone he thought had no impact on the future. But Iceheart is trying — for him, for all of them. Which means one day he has to try too.

"I'm not going with them," he insists, and she smiles.

"I would hope not. We all missed you too much."

He forces out a laugh, albeit a weak one, and turns his attention back to the kits. Elias has slumped back off to sleep between his two siblings and when he touches his noses to each of their backs their fur is soft and sun-warm, carefully smoothed back.

"Sorry to interrupt."

He turns. Mali is standing in the entrance to their little den, shielded by the cliff and the tumble of rocks in front of it. Pandora is just behind her, which is odd in itself, but he can see in her eyes immediately that Goldenleaf is alright. Not sick in the true sense, not like Blossomcreek was.

"Everything alright?" He asks. Mali wasn't there when the messengers got back, which means there's a likely chance she has no idea what's going on.

That's a relief.

"Yeah, of course, I'm just, uh—"

"She's expecting kits," Pandora announces, ignoring Mali's pointed glare. "Took her twenty minutes to get even the idea out to Goldenleaf and I, so. Figured I would just get it out there. I'm only here to confirm it anyway, in case you didn't believe her."

Mali doesn't just look nervous. Frankly, she looks a little terrified. When he found out Sophie was expecting kits she still lived in twoleg place, and all he could manage to be was scared when it was really all on her. He can't really say he blames Mali, not when she probably envisioned this happening in a safe and content Clan, with everyone helping her.

This is not that place.

"I just wanted to see the kinda den you guys had," she explains. "Figured it had worked thus far. I just usually sleep wherever, but I guess I should invest in an actual place to sleep. For them."

Her voice shakes a little despite herself, offering a grim smile that fades after a moment. He'd noticed that Mali had been with Landon more often than not, recently, which probably explains it. Landon also conveniently does sleep in the same spot every night, usually. He's not about to tell Mali what to do, though. It's none of his business, and he wouldn't appreciate her snark right now.

"I'm sure it'll all be fine," Sophie offers, smiling gently. "I was nervous too. I think _everyone_ was. But it all works itself out. It always does."

Bless her heart.

He doesn't miss the double meaning, though. They'll fix their own problems. Mali will handle hers, if she can. If Sophie can handle supporting Mali right now when they've hardly interacted or liked each other before, then he can sort his problems out one way or another.

"I'll leave you to it." Mali dips her head and herds Pandora away, still every much a member of the Guard as she was before.

"Tempest will make her go, tomorrow," Sophie points out. "All of the Clan cats."

"But not me," he reaffirms. All he wants to do is lie down in the sun himself, curl around Sophie and the kits. Go to sleep and forget all this a while. There's nothing he can do right now. Not for them, not for Mali. Not even for Goldenleaf or Pandora, as much as he wants to.

"But not you."

He'll give himself this.

He edges himself into that patch of sunlight and Angel burrows back into his chest. Sophie curls up beside him, head against his flank. In any other world, this would be their safety. He can hear just enough background chatter to imagine it as ValleyClan, and the stone is warm enough that it doesn't seem so foreign.

It's like he told Goldenleaf, nearly a moon ago.

They _will_ all be okay.

One day, anyway.

* * *

 **Scotch - Twoleg Nest, Edge of the Skulk.**

* * *

"Watch where you're going."

Tawnypaw, trotting ahead of him, nods quickly and resumes her pace. After that she's more watchful, though, careful not to bump into any other cats. Others from Macaria's gang are everywhere, invading every inch of space they've started to call their own in The Skulk.

Though it was never theirs to begin with.

He knows that Stark has finally forced Lope to rest. He's been on-edge since they all showed up, half-asleep on his paws whenever he sees him. Stormpaw and Cricketpaw are off hunting in the woods with Nyla. Watching Tawnypaw, it occurs to him that she probably doesn't need to be babysat anymore. She isn't bugging anyone. With this group she knows better than to annoy them. Macaria is up further ahead, barking orders at a group of cat he only vaguely recognizes seeing the day before.

Up ahead is also Bastian, urging yet another cat onto one of the rooftops. They're everywhere, keeping watch, a line of defense stretching into the distance. It's a relief, knowing they don't have to do all of this themselves, and just as awful to be relying on them this much. He doesn't trust Macaria or any of the others here, and the thought that Ghost probably wouldn't either is only slightly comforting.

He slows to a halt as Bastian's side, watching Tawnypaw slide through the throng effortlessly. She's curious, and so is he. He also told her to be back in an hour if she gets distracted with something, and she'll listen.

"Everything alright?" Bastian asks.

"Of course. Is everything alright _here_?"

"Should it not be?"

That's fair enough, but not an answer either. Bastian looks off again, up towards the roof, yelling at two cats he knows as Iris and Talon, because they've been hanging around the nest for the most part, making him twitchy. He's grateful they're farther off now.

"You know, you never told us why you came here in the first place."

Bastian doesn't look at him, and doesn't respond either. There's enough going on around them that he could blame it on that, that Bastian has things elsewhere to be focused on. That's not the truth though, which is equal parts annoying and frustrating.

"You're not the one that needs to hear it," he says finally, still staring at anything but him.

"So you'll just continue avoiding the subject until Ghost and the others get back? I forgot what cats were like in their teenage years."

Bastian sighs. "Why do you want to know so badly? It doesn't concern you."

"If it concerns Ghost, it concerns the entire Clan."

"And that's what you are now. _Right_. I forgot."

Scotch isn't even sure that's what this is. Sure, it's the beginnings of one, but he got dragged into it all because of those kids. He doesn't regret following them, that's for sure, but he still doesn't feel like he belongs here. Not like everyone else has. He's lived his life already. Starting a new one this late in the game doesn't feel natural.

"You really wanna know?"

"No, I'm just standing here asking because I'm trying to rile you up."

It's not hard to. Lope's hardly had to take ten steps in any single direction to irritate Bastian, laughing all the while. They both seem to have relaxed a bit since the initial meeting, but with what's nearing Macaria's entire gang hanging around, everyone's guards are up.

"A few days back someone from Macaria's gang came back from up east, just past the lake. She doesn't really care who goes where when, as long as they come back eventually. Duke I think his name was - said he saw two cats at the Outpost. You heard of it?"

"Vaguely," he responds. He's not from around here, but eventually you learn the landmarks. All he knows about the Outpost is that it was abandoned by twolegs, much like this place is. Surrounded by narrow drops into the ice and the glacier-covered mountains, he's never had any desire to really see it.

"Cats stop there all the time. But these two were living there, he said. Smelled like they'd been here a while."

"If this is going where I think it is—"

"Hear me out. He didn't stay long, they didn't seem kind to random visitors. But he said they had Clan names. Heard their names after they thought he left. Said one was Crowshadow. Doesn't remember the other, idiot, but that was enough for him. When he came back he told Macaria. We were wondering if they were MountainClan prisoners that got away, somehow."

"Are you screwing with me right now?"

"No, I'm doing it to rile you up," Bastian growls. "But seriously. I heard those names, and you guys were acting too funny for my liking. That, and Lope helped you guys hide out. And now that MountainClan's directly attacked you - I was right. So it's a good thing I came this way when I did."

Bastian was genuinely trying to help them. The words don't sound right together in the same sentence.

"I'm not the bad guy here," Bastian insists. "I could've never bothered to tell you. But I'm only alive right now because of the group I live in. Clearly that's important to you guys too."

"You should stick to your usual routine of being distant and intimidating."

"So funny," Bastian deadpans, already getting to his feet. "Tell Ghost yourself, when they get back. I've said enough."

He's hardly said enough, but pushing Bastian will get them nowhere. It seems to be that way for all of these Skulk cats, known or unknown. The name Crowshadow is as unfamiliar to him as it is to the rest of them. But to Ghost, to Damon, it could mean something extraordinary.

He waits for Tawnypaw for a bit, after he loses sight of her, but doesn't necessarily expect her to reappear. Ever since they got attacked he's been getting better at letting them out of his sight. It should've done the opposite. They all came out relatively unscathed, though, for the odds they faced. Tawnypaw boasts a scratch on her shoulder that will probably scar, much to her delight, and Stormpaw's ear is nicked at the tip, also to her delight.

They're growing up. They've grown up.

It's something to see, and he hopes their mother is proud.

There's still no sight of Tawnypaw, but he starts making his way back to the nest. He only came out in the first place because she was nervous, at first, but quickly lost it once she blended herself into their ranks.

Like he said, they're growing up. And he's fine with that, finally.

The nest is quiet when he returns. The kits are tumbling around but hardly making any noise. Lope is asleep, head against Stark's shoulder. Judging by her bemused look he almost certainly wasn't like that when he fell asleep, which means it's only going to be funnier when he wakes.

Of course, he has to consider what Bastian said. There are others out there. They still have to wait for Ghost to get back, knowing the possibility exists that he never will.

Cricketpaw and Stormpaw return not long after, and when he watches Cricketpaw launch himself onto the second floor, leg no longer bothering him, he smiles. It's not something he does often, not truly, but these kids are happy here. Cricketpaw drops prey onto the ground - two mice and a finch, and his brother does the same.

"Good job," he purrs softly, and Cricketpaw's eyes light up in happiness.

He should probably take the advice he gave Bastian. The advice that Lope is so clearly ignoring, now that he's here. Being soft doesn't get you very far in this world.

But it's easy, though.

And right now, he'll take easy.

* * *

Random 3 POVs because I had no idea how to organize this chapter, so it ended up like this.


End file.
